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ROBERT  BROWNING'S  WRITINGS. 


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PACCHIAROTTO 

AND 

HOW    HE    WORKED    IN    DISTEMPER: 

WITH  OTHER  POEMS. 
BY 

ROBERT    BROWNING. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    R.    OSGOOD   AND    COMPANY, 

(Late  Ticknor  &  Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  &  Co. 

1877. 


FRANKLIN   PRESS: 

RAND,    AVERV,    AND   COMPANY, 

BOSTON. 


CONTENTS. 


♦ 

PAGH 

Prologue       9 

Of  Pacchiarotto,  and  how  he  worked  in  Distemper  ii 

At  the  *  Mermaid' 43 

House        ...••*....  53 

Shop 57 

PiSGAH-SlGHTS.    I.         .......          .  65 

2 68 

Fears  and  Scruples 72 

Natural  Magic 76 

Magical  Nature 78 

7 


3SG725 


8  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Bifurcation  .       • 79 

numpholeptos .  82 

Appearances •       ...  90 

St.  Martin's  Summer 91 

A  Forgiveness 98 

Cenciaja 120 

FiLipPO  Baldinucci  on  the  Privilege  of  BuriaL         .  136 

Epilogue 166 


PACCHIAROTTO 


AND  OTHER  POEMS. 


PROLOGUE. 

I. 

O  the  old  wall  here !     How  I  could  pass 

Life  in  a  long  Midsummer  day, 
My,  feet  confined  to  a  plot  of  grass, 

My  eyes  from  a  wall  not  once  away! 

■       ■  '    -  -    2'. 

And  lush  and  lithe  do  the  creepers  clothe 
Yon  wall  I  watch,  with  a  wealth  of  green  : 

Its  bald  red  bricks  draped,  nothing  loath, 
In  lappets  of  tangle  they  laugh  between. 

-   •  ,  3-     '  ;   .  '  .  ) 

Now,  what  is  it  makes  pulsate  the  robe? 

Why  tremble  the  sprays?     What  life  o'erbrims 
The  body,  —  the  house,  no  eye  can  probe,  — 

Divined  as,  beneath  a  robe,  the  limbs? 

9 


16  PROLOGUE, 

4. 

And  there  again!     But  my  heart  may  guess 
Who  tripped  behind  ;   and  she  sang  perhaps  : 

So,  the  old  wall  throbbed,  and  its  life's  excess 
Died  out  and  away  in  the  leafy  wraps  I 

S- 
Wall  upon  wall  are  between  us :  life 

And  song  should  away  from  heart  to  heart! 
I  —  prison-bird,  with  a  ruddy  strife 

At  breast,  and  a  lip  whence  storm-notes  start  — 


Hold  on,  hope  hard  in  the  subtle  thing 

That's  spirit :   though  cloistered  fast,  soar  free  ; 

Account  as  wood,  brick,  stone,  this  ring 
Of  the  rueful  neighbors,  and  —  forth  to  thee ! 


OF  PA  CCHIARO  TTO,  1 1 


OF   PACCHIAROTTO,   AND   HOW   HE 
WORKED   IN  DISTEMPER. 

I. 

Query:   was  ever  a  quainter 
Crotchet  than  this  of  the  painter 
Giacomo  Pacchiarotto 
Who  took  "  Reform  "  for  his  motto  ? 


He,  pupil  of  old  Fungaio, 
Is  always  confounded  (heigho  !  ) 
With  Pacchia,  contemporaneous 
No  question,  but  how  extraneous 
In  the  grace  of  soul,  the  power 
Of  hand,  —  undoubted  dower 
Of  Pacchia  who  decked  (as  we  know, 
My  Kirkup  !)  San  Bernardino, 


I2i  OF  PA  CCHIARA  TTO, 

Turning  the  small  dark  Oratory 

To  Siena's  Art-laboratory, 

As  he  made  its  straightness  roomy 

And  glorified  its,  gloomy, 

With  Bazzi  and  Beccafumi. 

(Another  heigho  for  Bazzi : 

How  people  miscall  him  Razzi !) 

This  Painter  was  of  opinion  ) 

Our  earth  should^  be  his  dominion 
Whose  Art  could  correct  to  pattern 
What  Nature  had  slurred  —  the  slattern  1 
And  since,  beneath  the  heavens. 
Things  lay  now  at  sixes  and  sevens,      ; 
Or,  as  he  said,  sopra-wtto  — 
Thought  the  painter  Pacchiarotto 
Things  wanted  reforming,  therefore. 
"  Wanted  it  "  — -  ay,  but  wherefore  ? 
When  earth  held  one  so  ready 
As  he  to  step  forth,  stand  steady 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER,      13 

In  the  middle  of  God^s  creation 
And  prove  to  demonstration 
What  the  dark  is,  what  the  light  is, 
What  the  wrong  is,  what  the  right  is, 
What  the  ugly,  what  the  beautiful, 
What  the  restive,  what  the  dutiful. 
In  Mankind  profuse  around  him? 
Man,  devil  as  now  he  found  him, 
Would  presently  soar  up  angel 
At  the  summons  of  such  evangel, 
And  owe  —  what  would  Man  not  owe 
To  the  painter  Pacchiarotto  ? 
Ay,  look  to  thy  laurels,  Giotto! 

4. 
But  Man,  he  perceived,  was  stubborn, 
Grew  regular  brute,  once  cub  born  ; 
And  it  struck  him  as  expedient  — 
Ere  he  tried  to  make  obedient. 
By  piping  advice  in  one  key, 
The  wolf,  fox,  bear  and  monkey  — 


14  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

That  his  pipe  should  play  a  prelude 

To  something  heaven-tinged  not  hell-hued, 

Something  not  harsh  but  docile, 

Man-liquid,  not  Man-fossil  — 

Not  fact,  in  short,  but  fancy. 

By  a  laudable  necromancy 

He  would  conjure  up  ghosts  —  a  circle 

Deprived  of  the  means  to  work  ill 

Should  his  music  prove  distasteful, 

And  pearls  to  the  swine  go  wasteful. 

To  be  rent  of  swine  —  that  was  hard  1 

With  fancy  he  ran  no  hazard  : 

Fact  might  knock  him  o'er  the  mazard. 

5- 
So,  the  painter  Pacchiarotto 
Constructed  himself  a  grotto 
In  the  quarter  of  Stalloreggi  — 
As  authors  of  note  allege  ye. 
And  on  each  of  the  whitewashed  sides  of  it 
He  painted  —  (none  far  and  wide  so  fit 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER,      15 

As  he  to  perform  in  fresco)  — 

He  painted  nor  cried  quiesco 

Till  he  peopled  its  every  square  foot 

With  Man  —  from  the  Beggar  barefoot 

To  the  Noble  in  cap  and  feather : 

All  sorts  and  conditions  together. 

The  Soldier  in  breastplate  and  helmet 

Stood  frowningly  —  hail  fellow  well  met  — 

By  the  Priest  armed  with  bell,  book  and  candle. 

Nor  did  he  omit  to  handle 

The  Fair  Sex,  our  brave  distemperer : 

Not  merely  King,  Clown,  Pope,  Emperor  — 

He  diversified  too  his  Hades 

Of  all  forms,  pinched  Labor  and  paid  Ease, 

With  as  mixed  an  assemblage  of  Ladies. 


Which  work  done,  dry,  —  he  rested  him. 
Cleaned  palette,  washed  brush,  divested  him 
Of  the  apron  that  suits  frescanti, 
And,  bonnet  on  ear  stuck  jaunty, 


1 6  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

This  hand  upon  hip  well  planted, 

That,  free  to  wave  as  it  wanted. 

He  addressed  in  a  choice  oration 

His  folk  of  each  name  and  nation 

On  the  duties,  of  every  station. 

The  pope  was  declared  an  arrant 

Impostor  at  once,  I  warrant. 

The  Emperor  —  truth  might  tax  him 

With  ignorance  of  the  maxim 

"  Shear  sheep  but  nowise  flay  them !  " 

And  the  Vulgar  that  obey  them, 

The  Ruled,  well-matched  with  the  Ruling, 

They  failed  not  of  wholesome  schooling 

On  their  knavery  and  their  fooling. 

As  for  Art  —  where's  decorum  ?     Pooh-poohed  it  is 

By  Poets  that  plague  us  with  lewd  ditties, 

And  Painters  that  pester  with  nudities ! 

7. 
Now,  your  rater  and  debater 
Is  balked  by  a  mere  spectator 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      17 

Who  simply  stares  and  listens 

Tongue-tied,  while  eye  nor  glistens 

Nor  brow  grows  hot  and  twitchy. 

Nor  mouth,  for  a  combat  itchy, 

Quivers  wdth  some  convincing 

Reply  —  that  sets  him  wincing  ? 

Nay,  rather  —  reply  that  furnishes 

Your  debater  with  just  what  burnishes 

The  crest  of  him,  all  one  triumph, 

As  you  see   him  rise,  hear  him  cry  "  Humph ! 

Convinced  am  I?     This  confutes  me? 

Receive  the  rejoinder  that  suits  me  ! 

Confutation  of  vassal  for  prince  meet  — 

Wherein  all  the  powers  that  convince  meet, 

And   mash  my  opponent  to  mincemeat !  " 


So,  off  from  his  head  fli-es  the  bonnet, 
His  hip  loses  hand  planted  on  it. 
While  t'other  hand,  frequent  in  gesture, 
Slinks  modestly  back  beneath  vesture, 


l8  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

As,  —  hop,  skip  and  jump,  —  he's  along  with 

Those  weak  ones  he  late  proved  so  strong  with ! 

Pope,  Emperor,  lo  he's  beside  them, 

Friendly  now,  who  late  could  not  abide  them. 

King,  Clown,  Soldier,  Priest,  Noble,  Burgess  ; 

And  his  voice,  that  out-roared  Boanerges, 

How  minikin-mildly  it  urges 

In  accents  how  gentled  and  gingered 

Its  word  in  defence  of  the  injured ! 

"  O  call  him  not  culprit,  this  Pontiff ! 

Be  hard  on  this  Kaiser  ye  won't  if 

Ye  take  into  con-si-de-ration 

What  dangers  attend  elevation! 

The  Priest  —  who  expects  him  to  descant 

On  duty  with  more  zeal  and  less  cant  ? 

He  preaches  but  rubbish  he's  reared  in. 

The  Soldier,  grown  deaf  (by  the  mere  din 

Of  battle)  to  mercy,  learned  tippling 

And  what  not  of  vice  while  a  stripling. 

The  Lawyer  —  his  lies  are  conventional. 

And  as  for  the  Poor  Sort  —  why  mention  all 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      19 

Obstructions  that  leave  barred  and  bolted 
Access  to  the  brains  of  each  dolt-head  ?  " 


9- 

He  ended,  you  wager  ?     Not  half  !     A  bet  ? 
Precedence  to  males  in  the  alphabet ! 
Still,  disposed  of  Man's  A.  B.  C,  there's  X. 
Y.  Z.  want  assistance,  —  the  Fair  Sex ! 
How  much  may  be  said  in  excuse  of 
Those  vanities  —  males  see  no  use  of  — 
From  silk  shoe  on  heel  to  laced  poll's-hood  ! 
What's  their  frailty  beside  our  own  falsehood  ? 
The  boldest,  most  brazen  of  .  .  .  trumpets, 
How  kind  can  they  be  to  their  dumb  pets  ! 
Of    their    charms  —  how    are    most    frank,   how    few 

venal  ! 
While  as  for  those  charges  of  Juvenal  — 
Quce  nemo  dixisset  in  toto 
Nisi  (cedepol)  ore  illoto  — 
He  dismissed  every  charge  with  an  ^  Apage  !^ 


20  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

lO. 

Then,  cocking  (in  Scotch  phrase)  his  cap  a-gee, 
Right  hand  disengaged  from  the  doublet 
—  Like  landlord,  in  house  he  had  sublet 
Resuming  of  guardianship  gestion, 
To  call  tenants'  conduct  in  question  — 
Hop,  skip,  jump,  to  inside  from  outside 
Of  chamber,  he  lords,  ladies,  louts  eyed 
With  such  transformation  of   visage 
As  fitted  the  censor  of  this  age. 
No  longer  an  advocate  tepid 
Of  frailty  but  champion  intrepid 
Of  strength,  —  not  of  falsehood  but  verity,  — 
He,  one  after  one,  with  asperity 
Stripped  bare  all  the  cant-clothed  abuses, 
Disposed  of  sophistic  excuses. 
Forced  folly  each  shift  to  abandon, 
And  left  vice  with  no  leg  to  stand  on. 
So  crushing  the  force  he  exerted. 
That  Man  •  at  his  foot  lay  converted  ! 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      21 

II. 

True  —  Man  bred  of  paint-pot  and  mortar  ! 
But  why  suppose  folks  of  this  sort  are 
More  likely  to  hear  and  be  tractable 
Than  folks  all  alive  and,  in  fact,  able 
To  testify  promptly  by  action 
Their  ardor,  and  make  satisfaction 
For  misdeeds  non  verbis  sed  factis  ? 
"  With  folks  all  alive  be  my  practice 
Henceforward!     O  mortar,  paint-pot  O, 
Farewell  to  ye  !  "  cried  Pacchiarotto, 
"  Let  only  occasion  interpose  ! '' 

12. 

It  did  so  :   for,  pat  to  the  purpose 
Through  causes  I  need  not  examine, 
There  fell  upon  Siena  a  famine. 
In  vain  did  the  magistrates  busily 
Seek  succor,  fetch  grain  out  of  Sicily, 
Nay,  throw  mill  and  bakehouse  wide  open-— 


22  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Such  misery  followed  as  no  pen 
Of  mine  shall  depict  ye.     Faint,  fainter, 
Waxed  hope  of  relief:    so,  our  painter, 
Emboldened  by  triumph  of  recency, 
How  could  he  do  other  with  decency 
Than  rush  in  this  strait  to  the  rescue, 
Play  schoolmaster,  point  as  with  fescue 
To  each  and  all  slips  in  Man's  spelling 
The  law  of  the  land  ?  —  slips  now  telling 
With  monstrous  effect  on  the  city. 
Whose  magistrates  moved  him  to  pity 
As,  bound  to  read  law  to  the  letter, 
They  minded  their  hornbook  no  better. 

13- 

I  ought  to  have  told  you,  at  starting, 
How  certain,  who  itched  to  be  carting 
Abuses  away  clean  and  thorough 
From  Siena,  both  province  and  borough. 
Had  formed  themselves  into  a  company 
Whose  swallow  could  bolt  in  a  lump  any 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER,      23 

Obstruction  of  scruple,  provoking 

The  nicer  throat's  coughing  and  choking. 

Fit  Club,  by  as  fit  a  name  dignified 

Of  "Freed  Ones ''  —  "  ^^r^^///"— which  signified 

"  Spare-Horses  "  that  walk  by  the  wagon 

The  team  has  to  drudge  for  and  drag  on. 

This  notable  Club  Pacchiarotto 

Had  joined  long  since,  paid  scot  and  lot  to, 

As  free  and  accepted  "Bardotto." 

The  Bailiwick  watched  with  no  quiet  eye 

The  outrage  thus  done  to  society, 

And  noted  the  advent  especially 

Of  Pacchiarotto  their  fresh  ally. 


14. 


These  Spare-Horses  forthwith  assembled : 
Neighed  words  whereat  citizens  trembled 
As  oft  as  the  chiefs,  in  the  Square  by 
The  Duomo,  proposed  a  way  whereby 
The  city  were  cured  of  disaster. 
"Just  substitute  servant  for  master. 


24  OF  PACCHTAROTTO, 

Make  Poverty  Wealth  and  Wealth  Poverty, 
Unloose  Man  from  overt  and  covert  tie, 
And  straight  out  of  social  confusion 
True  Order  would  spring  !  "     Brave  illusion  — 
Aims  heavenly  attained  by  means  earthy ! 

15- 
Off  to  these  at  full  speed  rushed  our  worthy, - 
Brain  practised  and  tongue  no  less  tutored. 
In  argument's  armor  accoutred,  — 
Sprang  forth,  mounted  rostrum  and  essayed 
Proposals  like  those  to  which  "  Yes "  said 
So  glibly  each  personage  painted 
O'  the  wall-side  wherewith  you're  acquainted. 
He  harangued  on  the  faults  of  the  Bailiwick : 
"Red  soon  were  our  State-candle's  paly  wick, 
If  wealth  would  become  but  interfluous. 
Fill  voids  up  with  just  the  superfluous  ; 
If  ignorance  gave  way  to  knowledge 
—  Not  pedantry  picked  up  at  college 
From  Doctors,  Professors  et  ccBtera  — 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED   IN  DISTEMPER.      25 

{They  say:  ^ kai  fa  loipa' — like  better  a 

Long  Greek  string  of  kappas,  taus,  lambdas^ 

Tacked  on  to  the  tail  of  each  damned  ass)  — 

No  knowledge  we  want  of  this  quality, 

But  knowledge  indeed  —  practicality 

Through  insight's  fine  universality! 

If  you  shout  ^  Bailiffs,  out  on  ye  all  I    Fie, 

Thou  Chief  of  our  forces,  A?nalfi, 

Who  shield  est  the  rogue  and  the  clotpoll!^ 

If  you  pounce  on  and  poke  out,  with  what  pole 

I  leave  ye  to  fancy,  our  Siena's 

Beast-litter  of  sloths  and  hyenas  —  " 

(Whoever  to  scan  this  is  ill  able 

Forgets  the  town's  name's  a  dissyllable) 

"  If,  this  done,  ye  did  —  as  ye  might  —  place 

For  once  the  right  man  in  the  right  place, 

If  you  listened  to  me  .  .  ." 

16. 

At  which  last  "  If  " 
There  flew  at  his  throat  like  a  mastiff 


26  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

One  Spare-Horse  —  another  and  another! 

Such  outbreak  of  tumult  and  pother, 

Horse-faces  a- laughing  and  fleering, 

Horse-voices  a-mocking  and  jeering, 

Horse-hands  raised  to  collar  the  caitiff 

Whose  impudence  ventured  the  late  "If"  — 

That,  had  not  fear  sent  Pacchiarotto 

Off  tramping,  as  fast  as  could  trot  toe. 

Away  from  the  scene  of  discomfiture  — 

Had  he  stood  there  stock-still  in  a  dumb  fit  —  sure 

Am  I  he  had  paid  in  his  person 

Till  his  mother  might  fail  to  know  her  son. 

Though  she  gazed  on  him  never  so  wistful, 

In  the  figure  so  tattered  and  tristful. 

Each  mouth  full  of  curses,  each  fist  full 

Of  cuffings  —  behold,  Pacchiarotto, 

The  pass  which  thy  project  has  got  to. 

Of  trusting,  nigh  ashes  still  hot  —  tow ! 

(The  paraphrase  —  which  I  much  need  —  is 

From  Horace  ^per  ignes  incedis.*) 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER,      27 

17- 

Right  and  left  did  he  dash  helter-skelter 
In  agonized  search  of  a  shelter. 
No  purlieu  so  blocked  and  no  alley 
So  blind  as  allowed  him  to  rally 
His  spirits  and  see  —  nothing  hampered 
His  steps  if  he  trudged  and  not  scampered 
Up  here  and  down  there  in  a  city 
That's  all  ups  and  downs,  more  the  pity 
For  folks  who  would  outrun  the  constable. 
At  last  he  stopped  short  at  the  one  stable 
And  sure  place  of  refuge  that's  offered 
Humanity.     Lately  was  coffered 
A  corpse  in  its  sepulchre,  situate 
By  St.  John's  Observance.     "  Habituate 
Thyself  to  the  strangest  of  bedfellows, 
And,  kicked  by  the  live,  kiss  the  dead  fellows ! " 
So  Misery  counselled  the  craven. 
At  once  he  crept  safely  to  haven 
Through  a  hole  left  unbricked  in  the  structure. 
Ay,  Misery,  in  have  you  tucked  your 


28  OF  PACCHIAROTTOr 

Poor  client  and  left  him  conterminous 
With  —  pah  !  —  the  thing  fetid  and  verminous  ! 
(I  gladly  would  spare  you  the  detail, 
But  History  writes  what  I  retail.) 

i8. 

Two  days  did  he  groan  in  his  domicile  : 
"  Good  Saints,  set  me  free  and  I  promise  PU 
Abjure  all  ambition  of  preaching 
Change,  whether  to  minds  touched  by  teaching 

—  The  smooth  folk  of  fancy,  mere  figments 
Created  by  plaster  and  pigments,  — 

Or  to  minds  that  receive  with  such  rudeness 
Dissuasion  from  pride,  greed  and  lewdness, 

—  The  rough  folk  of  fact,  life's  true  specimens 
Of  mind  —  '  hand  in  posse  sed  esse  mens  * 

As  it  was,  is  and  shall  be  forever 
Despite  of  my  utmost  endeavor. 

0  live  foes  I  thought  to  illumine, 
Henceforth  lie  untroubled  your  gloom  in! 

1  need  my  own  light,  every  spark,  as 

I  couch  with  this  sole  friend  —  a  carcass  ! " 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      29 

19. 

Two  days  thus  he  maundered  and  rambled ; 
Then,  starved  back  to  sanity,  scrambled 
From  out  his  receptacle  loathsome. 
"A  spectre!"  —  declared  upon  oath  some 
Who  saw  him  emerge  and  (appalling 
To  mention)  his  garments  a-crawling 
With  plagues  far  beyond  the  Egyptian. 
He  gained,  in  a  state  past  description 
A  convent  of  monks,  the  Observancy. 


Thus  far  is  a  fact :    I  reserve  fancy 
For  Fancy's  more  proper  employment : 
And  now  she  weaves  wing  with  enjoyment, 
To  tell  ye  how  preached  the  Superior 
When  som.ewhat  our  painter's  exterior 
Was  sweetened.     He  needed  (no  mincing 
The  matter)  much   soaking  and  rinsing, 
Nay,  rubbing  with  drugs  odoriferous, 


30  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

Till,  rid  of  his  garments  pestiferous 

And  robed  by  the  help  of  the  Brotherhood 

In  odds  and  ends,  —  this  gown  and  t'other  hood,  ■ 

His  empty  inside  first  well-garnished,  — 

He  delivered  a  tale  round,  unvarnished. 


"  Ah,  Youth  ! ''  so  might  run  the  admonishment, 
"Thine  error  scarce  moves  my  astonishment. 
For  —  why  shall  I  shrink  from  asserting  ?  — 
Myself  have  had  hopes  of  converting 
The  foolish  to  wisdom,  till,  sober. 
My  life  found  its  May  grow  October. 
I  talked  and  I  wrote,  but,  one  morning, 
Life's  Autumn  bore  fruit  in  this  warning : 
*  Let  tongue  rest,  and  quiet  thy  quill  he  I 
Earth  is  earth  and  not  heaven^  and  ne\r  will  be,^ 
Man's  work  is  to  labor  and  leaven  — 
As  best  he  may  —  earth  here  with  heaven  ; 
'Tis  work  for  work's  sake  that  he's  needing: 
Let  him  work  on  and  on  as  if  speeding 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER,      31 

Work's  end,  but  not  dream  of  succeeding! 

Because  if  success  were  intended, 

Why,  heaven  would  begin  ere  earth  ended. 

A  Spare-Horse  ?     Be  rather  a  thill-horse, 

Or  —  what's  the  plain  truth  —  just  a  mill-horse! 

Earth's  a  mill  where  we  grind  and  wear  mufflers  : 

A  whip  awaits  shirkers  and  shufflers 

Who  slacken  their  pace,  sick  of  lugging 

At  what  don't  advance  for  their  tugging. 

Though  round  goes  the  mill,  we  must  still  post 

On  and  on  as  if  moving  the  mill-post. 

So,  grind  away,  mouth-wise  and  pen-wise. 

Do  all  that  we  can  to  make  men  wise  ! 

And  if  men  prefer  to  be  foolish. 

Ourselves  have  proved  horse-like  not  mulish  : 

Sent  grist,  a  good  sackful,  to  hopper. 

And  worked  as  the  Master  thought  proper. 

Tongue  I  wag,  pen  I  ply,  who  am  Abbot  ; 

Stick,  thou.  Son,  to  paint-brush  and  dab-pot! 

But,  soft !     I  scratch  hard  on  the  scab  hot  ? 

Though  cured  of  thy  plague,  there  may  linger 


32  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

A  pimple  I  fray  with  rough  finger  ? 
So  soon  could  my  homily  transmute 
Thy  brass  into  gold  ?     Why,  the  man's  mute  !  '* 


"Ay,  Father,  I'm  mute  with  admiring 
How  Nature's  indulgence  untiring 
Still  bids  us  turn  deaf  ear  to  Reason's 
Best  rhetoric  —  clutch  at  all  seasons 
And  hold  fast  to  what's  proved  untenable ! 
Thy  maxim  is  —  Man's  not  amenable 
To  argument :  whereof  by  consequence  — 
Thine  arguments  reach  me  :  a  non-sequence  ! 
Yet  blush  not  discouraged,  O  Father! 
I  stand  unconverted,  the  rather 
That  nowise  I  need  a  conversion. 
No  live  man  (I  cap  thy  assertion) 
By  argument  ever  could  take  hold 
Of  me.     'Twas  the  dead  thing,  the  clay-cold, 
Which  grinned  ^  Art  thou  so  in  a  hurry 
That  out  of  7uarm  light  thou  i7iust  scurry 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      33 

And  join  ine  down  here  in  the  dungeon 
Because^  above,  one^s  Jack  and  one —  John, 
One^s  swift  in  the  race,  one  —  a  hohhler. 
One's  a  crowned  king  and  one  —  a  capped  cobbler, 
Rich  and  poor,  sage  and  fool,  virtuous,  vicious  ? 
Why  co77iplain  ?     Art  thou  so  unsuspicious 
That  aWs  for  an  hour  of  essaying 
Who^s  ft  and  who^s  unfit  for  playing 
His  part  in  the  after-construction 
—  Heaven's  Piece  whereof  Earth's  the  Induction  ? 
Things  rarely  go  sfnooth  at  Rehearsal. 
Wait  patient  the  change  universal. 
And  act,  afid  let  act,  in  existence  I 
For,  as  thou  art  clapped  hence  or  hissed  hence. 
Thou  hast  thy  promotion  or  otherwise. 
And  why  mitst  wise  thou  have  thy  brother  wise 
Because  in  rehearsal  thy  cue  be 
To  shine  by  the  side  of  a  booby  ? 
A^o  polishing  garnet  to  ruby  / 
Alps  well  that  ends  well  —  through  Arfs  magic. 
Some  end,  whether  co7nic  or  tragic, 


34  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

The  Artist  has  purposed^  he  certain  ! 
Explained  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain  — 
In  showing  thy  wisdom  at  odds  imth 
That  folly  :   he  tries  men  aJid  gods  with 
No  problem  for  weak  wits  to  solve  meant, 
But  one  worth  such  Author^ s  evolvement. 
So,  back  nor  disturb  plafs  production 
By  giving  thy  brother  instriution 
To  throiv  up  his  fooFs-part  allotted! 
Lest  haply  thyself  prove  besotted 
When  stript,  for  thy  pains,  of  that  costmne 
Of  sage,  which  has  bred  the  imposthume 
I  prick  to  relieve  thee  of, —  Vanity  !^ 


23- 

"  So,  Father,  behold  me  in  sanity ! 
.    I'm  back  to  the  paint-brush  and  mahlstick: 
And  as  for  Man  —  let  each  and  all  stick 
To  what  was  prescribed  them  at  starting! 
Once  planted  as  fools  —  no  departing 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      35 

From  folly  one  inch,  sceculonim 

In  scecula!     Pass  me  the  jorum, 

And  push  me  the  platter  —  my  stomach 

Retains,  through  its  fasting,  still  some  ache  — 

And  then,  with  your  kind  Benedicite, 

Good-by  1 " 


24. 

I  have  told  with  simplicity 
My  tale,  dropped  those  harsh  analytics, 
And  tried  to  content  you,  my  critics, 
Who  greeted  my  early  uprising ! 
I  knew  you  through  all  the  disguising, 
Droll  dogs,  as  I  jumped  up,  cried  "  Heyday 
This  Monday  is  —  what  else  but  May-day 
And  these  in  the  drabs,  blues  and  yellows 
Are  surely  the  privileged  fellows. 
So,  saltbox  and  bones,  tongs  and  bellows  ! " 
(I  threw  up  the  window)  "  Your  pleasure  ? " 


36  OF  PACCHIAROTTO, 

25. 

Then  he  who  directed  the  measure  — 
An  old  friend  —  put  leg  forward  nimbly, 
"  We  critics  as  sweeps  out  your  chimbly  ! 
Much  soot  to  remove  from  your  flue  sir! 
Who  spares  coal  in  kitchen  an't  you,  sir ! 
And  neighbors  complain  it's  no  joke,  sir, 
—  You  ought  to  consume  your  own  smoke,  sir ! " 

26. 

Ah,  rogues,  but  my  housemaid  suspects  you  — 
Is  confident  oft  she  detects  you 
In  bringing  more  filth  into  my  house 
Than  ever  you  found  there  !     I'm  pious 
However  :  'twas  God  made  you  dingy 
And  me  —  with  no  need  to  be  stingy 
Of  soap,  when  'tis  sixpence  the  packet. 
So,  dance  away,  boys,  dust  my  jacket. 
Bang  drum  and  blow  fife  —  ay,  and  rattle 
Your  brushes,  for  that's  half  the  battle  ! 


AND   HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      37 

Don't  trample  the  grass,  —  hocus-pocus 

With  grime  my  Spring  snow-drop  and  crocus, — 

And,  what  with  your  rattling  and  tinkling, 

Who  knows  but  you  give  me  an  inkling 

How  music  sounds,  thanks  to  the  jangle 

Of  regular  drum  and  triangle  ? 

Whereby,  tap-tap,  chink-chink,  'tis  proven 

I  break  rule  as  bad  as  Beethoven. 

"  That  chord  now  —  a  groan  or  a  grunt  is't  ? 

Schumann's  self  was  no  worse  contrapuntist. 

No  ear !  or  if  ear,  so  tough-gristled  — 

He  thought  that  he  sung  while  he  whistled !  " 


27. 

So,  this  time  I  whistle,  not  sing  at  all, 
My  story,  the  largess  I  fling  at  all 
And  every  the  rough  there  whose  aubade 
Did  its  best  to  amuse  me,  —  nor  so  bad  ! 
Take  my  thanks,  pick  up  largess,  and  scamper 
Off  free,  ere  your  mirth  gets  a  damper! 


38  OF  PACCHJAROTTO, 

YouVe  Monday,  your  one  day,  your  fun-day, 
While  mine  is  a  year  that's  all  Sunday. 
I've  seen  you,  times  —  who  knows  how  many?- 
Dance  in  here,  strike  up,  play  the  zany. 
Make  mouths  at  the  Tenant,  hoot  warning 
You'll  find  him  decamped  next  May-morning  ; 
Then  scuttle  away,  glad  to  'scape  hence 
With  —  kicks  ?   no,  but  laughter  and  ha'pence  ! 
Mine's  freehold,  by  grace  of  the  grand  Lord 
Who  lets  out  the  ground  here,  —  my  landlord : 
To  him  I  pay  quit-rent  —  devotion  ; 
Nor  hence  shall  I  budge,  I've  a  notion, 
Nay,  here  shall  my  whistling  and  singing 
Set  all  his  street's  echoes  a-ringing 
Long  after  the  last  of  your  number 
Has  ceased  my  front-court  to  encumber 
While,  treading  down  rose  and  ranunculus, 
You  Tommy-make-rooin-for-your-  Uncle  us  ! 
Troop,  all  of  you  —  man  or  homunculus. 
Quick  march !   for  Xanthippe,  my  housemaid, 
If  once  on  your  pates  she  a  souse  made 


AND   HOW  HE    WORKED   IN  DISTEMPER.      39 

With  what,  pan  or  pot,  bowl  or  skoramis 

First  comes  to  her  hand  —  things  were  more  amiss! 

I  would  not  for  worlds  be  your  place  in  — 

Recipient  of  slops  from  the  basin ! 

You,  Jack-in-the-Green,  leaf-and-twiggishness 

Won't  save  a  dry  thread  on  your  priggishness ! 

While  as  for  Quilp-Hop-oMny-thumb  there, 

Banjo-Byron  that  twangs  the  strum-strum  there  — 

He'll  think,  as  the  pickle  he  curses, 

I've  discharged  on  his  pate  his  own  verses  ! 

"  Dwarfs  are  saucy,"  says  Dickens  :    so,  sauced  in 

Your  own  sauce,  .  .    * 

28. 

But,  back  to  my  Knight  of  the  Pencil, 
Dismissed  to  his  fresco  and  stencil ! 
Whose  story  —  begun  with  a  chuckle. 
And  throughout  timed  by  raps  of  the  knuckle,  — * 

*  No,  please !     For 

*'Who  would  be  satirical 
On  a  thing  so  very  small?" — Printer's  Devil. 


40  OF  PACCHIAROTTO^ 

To  small  enough  purpose  were  studied 

If  it  ends  with  crown  cracked  or  nose  bloodied. 

Come,  critics,  —  not  shake  hands,  excuse  me  ! 

But  —  say  have  you  grudged  to  amuse  me 

This  once  in  the  forty-and-over 

Long  years  since  you  trampled  my  clover 

And  scared  from  my  house-eaves  each  sparrow 

I  never  once  harmed  by  that  arrow 

Of  song,  karterotaton  belos, 

(Which  Pindar  declares  the  true  melos) 

I  was  forging  and  filing  and  finishing, 

And  no  whit  my  labors  diminishing 

Because,  though  high  up  in  a  chamber 

Where  none  of  your  kidney  may  clamber 

Your  hullabaloo  would  approach  me  ? 

Was  it  "  grammar  "  wherein  you  would  "  coach  "  me  — 

You,  —  pacing  in  even  that  paddock 

Of  language  allotted  you  ad  hoc, 

With  a  clog  at  your  fetlocks,  —  you  —  scorners 

Of  me  free  of  all  its  four  corners  ? 

Was  it  "clearness  of  words  which  convey  thought?" 


AND  HOW  HE    WORKED  IN  DISTEMPER.      41 

Ay,  if  words  never  needed  enswathe  aught 

But  ignorance,  impudence,  envy 

And  malice — what  word-swathe  would  then  vie 

With  yours  for  a  clearness  crystalline  ? 

But  had  you  to  put  in  one  small  line 

Some  thought  big  and  bouncing  —  as  noddle 

Of  goose,  born  to  cackle  and  waddle 

And  bite  at  man's  heel  as  goose-wont  is, 

Never  felt  plague  its  puny  os  fro?itis  — 

You'd  know,  as  you  hissed,  spat  and  sputtered, 

Clear  "  quack-quack  "  is  easily  uttered  ! 


29. 

Lo,  Pve  laughed  out  my  laugh  on  this  mirth-day ! 
Beside,  at  week's  end,  dawns  my  birth-day, 
That  hebdo7?ie^  hieron  emar  — 
(More  things  in  a  day  than  you  deem  are  !) 
—  Tei  gar  Apollona  chriisaora 
Egeinato  Leto,     So,  gray  or  ray 
Betide  me,  six  days  hence,  I'm  vexed  here 


42  OF  PACCHIAROTTO. 

By  no  sweep,  that's  certain,  till  next  year! 

*'  Vexed  ?"  —  roused  from  what  else  were  insipid  ease  ! 

Leave  snoring  a-bed  to  Pheidippides  ! 

We'll  up  and  work!   won't  we,  Euripides? 


AT  THE  'mermaid:  43 


AT   THE   'MERMAID.' 

The  figure  that  thou  here  seest  .  .  Tut ! 
Was  it  for  gentle  Shakespeare  put? 

B.  Jon  SON.     {Adapted,) 


I  —  "Next  Poet?"     No,  my  hearties, 

I  nor  am  nor  fain  would  be ! 
Choose  your  chiefs  and  pick  your  parties, 

Not  one  soul  revolt  to  me ! 
I,  forsooth,  sow  song  sedition  ? 

I,  a  schism  in  verse  provoke  ? 
I,  blown  up  by  bard's  ambition, 

Burst  —  your  bubble-king?     You  joke. 


Come,  be  grave !  The  sherris  mantling 
Still  about  each  mouth,  mayhap. 

Breeds  you  insight  —  just  a  scantling  — 
Brings  me  truth  out  —  just  a  scrap. 


44  AT  THE   '  mermaid: 

Look  and  tell  me  !  Written,  spoken, 
Here's  my  life-long  work :    and  where 

—  Where's  your  warrant  or  my  token 
I'm  the  dead  king's  son  and  heir  ? 

3- 

Here's  my  work :    does  work  discover 

What  was  rest  from  work  —  my  life  ? 
Did  I  live  man's  hater,  lover? 

Leave  the  world  at  peace,  at  strife  ? 
Call  earth  ugliness  or  beauty  ? 

See  things  there  in  large  or  small  ? 
Use  to  pay  its  Lord  my  duty? 

Use  to  own  a  lord  at  all  ? 

4. 

Blank  of  such  a  record,  truly, 

Here's  the  work  I  hand,  this  scroll, 

Yours  to  take  or  leave  ;   as  duly, 
Mine  remains  the  unproffered  soul. 


AT  THE   'mermaid:  45 

So  much,  no  whit  more,  my  debtors  — 
How  should  one  like  me  lay  claim 

To  that  largess  elders,  betters 

Sell  you  cheap  their  souls  for  —  fame  ? 

5- 
Which  of  3^ou  did  I  enable 

Once  to  slip  inside  my  breast 
There  to  catalogue  and  label 

What  I  like  least,  what  love  best, 
Hope  and  fear,  believe  and  doubt  of, 

Seek  and  shun,  respect  —  deride  ? 
Who  has  right  to  make  a  rout  of 

Rarities  he  found  inside  ? 


Rarities  or,  as  he'd  rather, 

Rubbish  such  as  stocks  his  ov/n  : 

Need  and  greed  (O  strange)  the  Father 
Fashioned  not  for  him  alone  ! 


46  AT  THE   'mermaid: 

Whence  —  the  comfort  set  a-strutting, 
Whence  —  the  outcry  "  Haste,  behold  ! 

Bard's  breast  open  wide,  past  shutting, 
Shows  what  brass  we  took  for  gold  ! '' 

7. 

Friends,  I  doubt  not  he'd  display  you 

Brass  —  myself  call  oreichalch, — 
Furnish  much  amusement ;   pray  you 

Therefore,  be  content  I  balk 
Him  and  you,  and  bar  my  portal ! 

Here's  my  work  outside :    opine 
What's  inside  me  mean  and  mortal  ! 

Take  your  pleasure,  leave  me  mine ! 

8. 

Which  is  —  not  to  buy  your  laurel 
As  last  king  did,  nothing  loath. 

Tale  adorned  and  pointed  moral 
Gained  him  praise  and   pity  both. 


AT  THE   ' mermaid:  47 

Out  rushed  sighs  and  groans  by  dozens, 
Forth  by  scores  oaths,  curses  flew : 

Proving  you  were  cater-cousins, 
Kith  and  kindred,  king  and  you  ! 

9- 

Whereas  do  I  ne'er  so  little 

(Thanks  to  sherris)  leave  ajar 
Bosom's  gate — no  jot  nor  tittle 

Grow  we  nearer  than  we  are. 
Sinning,  sorrowing,  despairing. 

Body-ruined,  spirit-wrecked,  — 
Should  I  give  my  woes  an  airing,  — 

Where's  one  plague  that  claims  respect  ? 


Have  you  found  your  life  distasteful  ? 

My  life  did  and  does  smack  sweet. 
Was  your  youth  of  pleasure  wasteful  ? 

Mine  I  saved  and  hold  complete. 


48  AT  THE  'mermaid: 

Do  your  joys  with  age  diminish  ? 

When  mine  fail  me,  I'll  complain. 
Must  in  death  your  daylight  finish? 

My  sun  sets  to  rise  again. 


What,  like  you,  he  proved  —  your  Pilgrim  — 

This  our  world  a  wilderness, 
Earth  still  gray  and  heaven  still  grim. 

Not  a  hand  there  his  might  press. 
Not  a  heart  his  own  might  throb  to. 

Men  all  rogues  and  women  —  say, 
Dolls  which  boys'  heads  duck  and  bob  to. 

Grown  folk  drop  or  throw  away  ? 


My  experience  being  other. 

How  should  T  contribute  verse 

Worthy  of  your  king  and  brother  ? 
Balaam-like  I  bless,  not  curse. 


A  7'  THE   'mermaid:  49 

I  find  earth  not  gray  but  rosy, 
Heaven  not  grim  but  fair  of  hue. 

Do  I  stoop  ?     I  pluck  a  posy. 

Do  I  stand  and  stare?     AlFs  blue. 


13- 

Doubtless  I  am  pushed  and  shoved  by 

Rogues  and  fools  enough  :   the  more 
Good  luck  mine,  I  love,  am  loved  by 

Some  few  honest  to  the  core. 
Scan  the  near  high,  scout  the  far  low ! 

"  But  the  low  come  close :  "  what  then  ? 
Simpletons  ?     My  match  is  Marlowe ; 

Sciolists  ?     My  mate  is  Ben. 

14. 

Womankind  —  "  the  cat-like  nature. 
False  and  fickle,  vain  and  weak  "  — 

What  of  this  sad  nomenclature 

Suits  my  tongue,  if  I  must  speak? 


50  AT  THE   'mermaid: 

Does  the  sex  invite,  repulse  so, 
Tempt,  betray,  by  fits  and  starts  ? 

So  becalm  but  to  convulse  so. 

Decking  heads  and  breaking  hearts  ? 

IS- 

Well  may  you  blaspheme  at  fortune ! 

I  "  threw  Venus  "  (Ben,  expound  !) 
Never  did  I  need  importune 

Her,  of  all  the  Olympian  round. 
Blessings  on  my  benefactress  ! 

Cursings  suit  —  for  aught  I  know  — 
Those  who  twitched  her  by  the  back  tress, 

Tugged  and  thought  to  turn  her  —  so  ! 

i6. 

Therefore,  since  no  leg  to  stand  on 
Thus  I'm  left  with,  —  joy  or  grief 

Be  the  issue,  —  I  abandon 

Hope  or  care  you  name  me  Chief! 


AT  THE  'Mermaid:  51 

Chief  and  king  and  Lord's  anointed, 

I  ?  —  who  never  once  have  wished 
Death  before  the  day  appointed  : 

Lived  and  liked,  not  poohed  and  pished  ! 

\1' 

"Ah,  but  so  I  shall  not  enter, 

Scroll  in  hand,  the  common  heart  — 

Stopped  at  surface  :    since  at  centre 

Song  should  reach  .  Wclt-sc/uncrz,  world-smart !  " 

"  Enter  in  the  heart  ?  "     Its  shelly- 
Cuirass  guard  mine,  fore  and  aft ! 

Such  song  "  enters  in  the  belly 
And  is  cast  out  in  the  draught." 

18. 

Back  then  to  our  sherris-brewage ! 

"  Kingship  "  quotha  ?     I  shall  wait  — 
Waive  the  present  time  :    some  new  age  .  .  . 

But  let  fools  anticipate  ! 


52  AT  THE   'mermaid: 

Meanwhile  greet  me  —  "friend,  good  fellow, 
Gentle  Will/'  my  merry  men  ! 

As  for  making  Envy  yellow 
With  "Next  Poet "  — (Manners,  Ben!) 


HOUSE,  53 


HOUSE. 

I. 

Shall  I  sonnet-sing  you  about  myself? 

Do  I  live  in  a  house  you  would  like  to  see  ? 
Is  it  scant  of  gear,  has  it  store  of  pelf? 

"Unlock  my  heart  with  a  sonnet-key?" 

2. 

Invite  the  world,  as  my  betters  have  done? 

"  Take  notice  :    this  building  remains  on  view, 
Its  suites  of  reception  every  one, 

Its  private  apartment  and  bedroom  too  ; 

3. 
"  For  a  ticket,  apply  to  the  Publisher." 

No :  thanking  the  public,  I  must  decline. 
A  peep  through  my  window,  if  folks  prefer ; 

But,  please  you,  no  foot  over  threshold  of  mine ! 


54  HOUSE, 


4. 

I  have  mixed  with  a  crowd  and  heard  free  talk 
In  a  foreign  land  where  an  earthquake  chanced 

And  a  house  stood  gaping,  nought  to  balk 
Man's  eye  wherever  he  gazed  or  glanced. 

5- 
The  whole  of  the  frontage  shaven  sheer, 

The  inside  gaped  :    exposed  to  day, 
Right  and  wrong  and  common  and  queer, 

Bare,  as  the  palm  of  your  hand,  it  lay. 

6.  ' 

The  owner  ?     Oh,  he  had  been  crushed,  no  doubt ! 

"  Odd  tables  and  chairs  for  a  man  of  wealth ! 
What  a  parcel  of  musty  old  books  about ! 

He  smoked,  —  no  wonder  he  lost  his  health ! 


HOUSE.  5S 


7- 

"  I  doubt  if  he  bathed  before  he  dressed. 

A  brazier? — the  pagan,  he  burned  perfumes! 
You  see  it  is  proved,  what  the  neighbors  guessed  : 

His  wife  and  himself  had  separate  rooms." 

8. 

Friends,  the  goodman  of  the  house  at  least 

Kept  house  to  himself  till  an  earthquake  came: 

'Tis  the  fall  of  its  frontage  permits  you  feast 
On  the  inside  arrangement  you  praise  or  blame. 

'  9- 

Outside  should  suffice  for  evidence  : 

And  whoso  desires  to  penetrate 
Deeper,  must  dive  by  the  spirit-sense  — 

No  optics  like  yours,  at  any  rate! 


56  HOUSE. 


lo. 

"  Hoity  toity  !     A  street  to  explore, 

Your  house  the  exception !     *  With  this  same  key 
Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart ^^  once  more !  '' 

Did  Shakespeare  ?     If  so,  the  less  Shakespeare  he  ! 


SHOP,  57 


SHOP. 


So,  friend,  your  shop  was  all  your  house  I 
Its  front,  astonishing  the  street. 

Invited  view  from  man  and  mouse 
To  what  diversity  of  treat 
Behind  its  glass  —  the  single  sheet ! 


What  gimcracks,  genuine  Japanese  : 
Gape-jaw  and  goggle-eye,  the  frog; 

Dragons,  owls,  monkeys,  beetles,  geese  ; 
Some  crush-nosed  human-hearted  dog: 
Queer  names,  too,  such  a  catalogue  ! 


58  SHOP. 


3. 

I  thought  "  And  he  who  owns  *  the  wealth 
Which  blocks  the  window's  vastitude, 

—  Ah,  could  I  peep  at  him  by  stealth 
Behind  his  ware,  pass  shop,  intrude 
On  house  itself,  what  scenes  were  viewed  ! 

4. 

"If  wide  and  showy  thus  the  shop. 
What  must  the  habitation  prove  ? 

The  true  house  with  no  name  a-top  — 
The  mansion,  distant  one  remove, 
Once  get  him  ofE  his  traffic-grove  ! 

5- 

"Pictures  he  likes,  or  books  perhaps; 
And  as  for  buying  most  and  best, 

Commend  me  to  these  city  chaps ! 
Or  else  he's  social,  takes  his  rest 
On  Sundays,  v;ilh  a  Lord  for  guest. 


SHOP.  59 


6. 


"  Some  suburb-palace,  parked  about 
And  gated  grandly,  built  last  year : 

The  four-mile  walk  to  keep  off  gout ; 
Or  big  seat  sold  by  bankrupt  peer : 
But  then  he  takes  the  rail,  that's  clear. 

7- 

"  Or,  stop  !     I  wager,  taste  selects 

Some  out  o'  the  way,  some  all-unknown 

Retreat :    the  neighborhood  suspects 
Little  that  he  who  rambles  lone 
Makes  Rothschild  tremble   on  his  throne ! " 

8. 

Nowise  !     Nor  Mayfair  residence 
Fit  to  receive  and  entertain,  — 

Nor  Hampstead  villa's  kind  defence 

From  noise  and  crowd,  from  dust  and  drain,  ■ 
Nor  country-box  was  soul's  domain  ! 


6o  SHOP. 


9- 

Nowise  !     At  back  of  all  that  spread 
Of  merchandise,  woe's  me,  I  find 

A  hole  i'  the  wall  where,  heels  by  head, 
The  owner  couched,  his  ware  behind, 
—  In  cupboard  suited  to  his  mind. 


For  why?     He  saw  no  use  of  life 
But,  while  he  drove  a  roaring  trade. 

To  chuckle  "  Customers  are  rife  !  " 

To  chafe  "  So  much  hard  cash  outlaid 
Yet  zero  in  my  profits  made  ! 


"  This  novelty  costs  pains,  but  —  takes  ? 
Cumbers  my  counter  !     Stock  no  more  ! 

This  article,  no  such  great  shakes, 
Fizzes  like  wild  fire  ?     Underscore 
The  cheap  thing  —  thousands  to  the  fore  !  " 


SHOP,  6l 


12. 

'Twas  lodging  best  to  live  most  nigh 
(Cramp,  coffinlike  as  crib  might  be) 

Receipt  of  Custom  ;   ear  and  eye 

Wanted  no  outworld  :    "  Hear  and  see 
The  bustle  in  the  shop !  '^   quoth  he. 

13- 

My  fancy  of  a  merchant-prince 

Was  different.     Through  his  wares  we  groped 
Our  darkling  way  to  —  not  to  mince 

The  matter  —  no  black  den  where  moped 

The  master  if  we  interloped  ! 

14. 

Shop  was  shop  only :   household-stuff  ? 

What  did  he  want  with  comforts  there  ? 
"  WallSj  ceiling,  floor,  stay  blank  and  rough, 

So  goods  on  sale  show  rich  and  rare ! 

^ Sell  and  scud  home^^  be  shop's  affair!" 


62  SHOP, 

15-     . 

What  might  he  deal  m?     Gems,  suppose! 
Since  somehow  business  must  be  done 

At  cost  of  trouble,  —  see,  he  throws 
You  choice  of  jewels,  every  one 
Good,  better,  best,  star,  moon  and  sun  1 

1 6. 

Which  lies  within  your  power  of  purse  ? 
This  ruby  that  would  tip  aright 

Solomon's  sceptre  ?     Oh,  your  nurse 
Wants  simply  coral,  the  delight 
Of  teething  baby,  —  stuff  to  bite  ! 

17. 

Howe'er  your  choice  fell,  straight  you  took 
Your  purchase,  prompt  your  money  rang 

On  counter,  —  scarce  the  man  forsook 
His  study  of  the  "  Times,"  just  swang 
Till-ward  his  hand  that  stopped  the  clang,  ■ 


SHOP.  63 


18. 


Then  off  made  buyer  with  a  prize, 
Then  seller  to  his  "  Times  "  returned, 

And  so  did  day  wear,  wear,  till  eyes 
Brightened  apace,  for  rest  was  earned : 
He  locked  door  long  ere  candle  burned. 

19. 

And  whither  went  he?     Ask  himself. 
Not  me  !     To  change  of  scene,  I  think. 

Once  sold  the  ware  and  pursed  the  pelf. 
Chaffer  was   scarce  his  meat  and  drink, 
Nor  all  his  music  —  money-chink. 


Because  a  man  has  shop  to  mind 

In  time  and  place,  since  flesh  must  live, 

Needs  spirit  lack  all  life  behind. 
All  stray  thoughts,  fancies  fugitive. 
All  loves  except  what  trade  can  give  ? 


64  SHOP. 


I  want  to  know  a  butcher  paints, 
A  baker  rhymes  for  his  pursuit, 

Candlestick-maker  much  acquaints 
His  soul  with  song,  or,  haply  mute, 
Blows  out  his  brains  upon  the  flute! 

22. 

But  —  shop  each  day  and  all  day  long ! 
Friend,  your  good  angel  slept,  your  star 

Suffered  eclipse,  fate  did  you  wrong! 
From  where  these  sorts  of  treasures  are. 
There  should  our  hearts  be  —  Christ,  how  far ! 


PISGAII-SIGHTS.  65 


PISGAH-SIGHTS.     I. 


Over  the  ball  of  it, 

Peering  and  prying, 
How  I  see  all  of  it, 

Life  there,  outlying! 
Roughness  and  smoothness. 

Shine  and  defilement, 
Grace  and  uncouthness : 

One  reconcilement. 


Orbed  as  appointed, 
Sister  with  brother 

Joins,  ne'er  disjointed 
One  from  the  other. 


66  PISGAH-SIGHTS,  ■ 

AlPs  lend-and-borrow ; 
•    Good,  see,  wants  evil, 
Joy  demands  sorrow, 
Angel  weds  devil  1 

3- 
"  Which  things  must  —  why  be  ?  " 

Vain  our  endeavor ! 
So  shall  things  aye  be 

As  they  were  ever. 
"  Such  things  should  so  be  \ " 

Sage  our  desistence  ! 
Rough-smooth  let  globe  be, 

Mixed  —  man's  existence  ! 


4. 
Man  —  wise  and  foolish. 

Lover  and  scorner. 
Docile  and  mulish  — 

Keep  each  his  corner  ! 


PISGAH-SIGHTS,  67 

Honey  yet  gall  of  it! 

There's  the  life  lying, 
And  I  see  all  of  it, 

Only,  I'm  dying  I 


68  FISGAH-SIGHTS. 


PISGAH-SIGHTS.     2. 


Could  I  but  live  again, 

Twice  my  life  over, 
Would  I  once  strive  again? 

Would  not  I  cover 
Quietly  all  of  it  — 

Greed  and  ambition  — ■ 
So,  from  the  pall  of  it, 

Pass  to  fruition? 


"  Soft !  "  I'd  say,  "  Soul  mine  ! 

Three-score  and  ten  years, 
Let  the  blind  mole  mine 

Digging  out  deniers  ! 


PISGAH-SIGHTS.  69 

Let  the  dazed  hawk  soar, 

Claim  the  sun's  rights  too  ! 
Turf  'tis  thy  walk's  o'er, 

Foliage  thy  flight's  to." 


3- 

Only  a  learner, 

Quick  one  or  slow  one, 
Just  a  discerner, 

I  would  teach  no  one. 
I  am  earth's  native : 

No  re-arranging  it ! 
/  be  creative. 

Chopping  and  changing  it? 

4. 
March,  men,  my  fellows  ! 

Those  who,  above  me, 
(Distance  so  mellows) 

Fancy  you  love  me  : 


70  PISGAH-SIGHTS, 

Those  who,  below  me, 

(Distance  makes  great  so) 
Free  to  forego  me, 
Fancy  you  hate  so  ! 

5- 
Praising,  reviling, 

Worst  head  and  best  head, 
Past  me  defiling, 

Never  arrested, 
Wanters,  abounders, 

March,  in  gay  mixture, 
Men,  my  surrounders  !     . 

I  am  the  fixture. 

6. 

So  shall  I  fear  thee, 
Mightiness  yonder ! 

Mock-sun  —  more  near  thee, 
What  is  to  wonder  ? 


PISGA  H-SIGHTS.     ,  7 1 

So  shall  I  love  thee, 

Down  in  the  dark,  —  lest 
Glowworm  I  prove  thee, 

Star  that  now  sparkiest  I 


72  FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES. 


FEARS   AND   SCRUPLES. 

I. 

Here's  my  case.     Of  old  I  used  to  love  him, 
This  same  unseen  friend,  before  I  knew : 

Dream  there  was  none  like  him,  none  above  him, - 
Wake  to  hope  and  trust  my  dream  was  true. 


Loved  I  not  his  letters  full  of  beauty? 

Not  his  actions  famous  far  and  wide  ? 
Absent,  he  would  know  I  vowed  him  duty. 

Present,  he  would  find  me  at  his  side. 

3- 

Pleasant  fancy !  for  I  had  but  letters, 

Only  knew  of  actions  by  hearsay : 
He  himself  was  busied  with  my  betters ; 

What  of  that }     My  turn  must  come  some  day. 


FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES,  73 

4. 

^' Some  day"  proving — no  day!      Here's  the  puzzle. 

Passed  and  passed  my  turn  is.     Why  complain? 
He's  so  busied  !     If  I  could  but  muzzle 

People's  foolish  mouths  that  give  me  pain  ! 

5- 
"Letters?"   (hear  them!)     "You  a  judge  of  writing? 

Ask  the  experts !     How  they  shake  the  head 
O'er  these  characters,  your  friend's  inditing  — 

Call  them  iorgery  from  A.  to  Z.  ! 

6. 
"  Actions  ?     Where's  your  certain  proof  "  (they  bother) 

"  He,  of  all  you  find  so  great  and  good, 
He,  he  only,  claims  this,  that,  the  other 

Action  —  claimed  by  men,  a  multitude  ? " 

7- 
I  can  simply  wish  I  might  refute  you. 

Wish  my  friend  would,  —  by  a  word,  a  wink, — 
Bid  me  stop  that  foolish  mouth,  —  you  brute  you! 

He  keeps  absent,  —  why,  I  cannot  think. 


74  FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES, 

8. 

Never  mind  !     Though  fooUshness  may  flout  me, 
One  thing's  sure  enough :    'tis  neither  frost, 

No,  nor  fire,  shall  freeze  or  burn  from  out  me 
Thanks    for    truth  —  though    falsehood,    gained  — 
though  lost. 

9- 

All  my  days,  I'll  go  the  softlier,  sadlier. 

For  that  dream's  sake  !     How  forget  the  thrill 

Through  and  through  me  as  I  thought  "  The  gladlier 
Lives  my  friend  because  I  love  him  still ! " 

lO. 

Ah,  but  there's  a  menace  some  one  utters  ! 

"What  and  if  your  friend   at  home  play  tricks? 
Peep  at  hide-and-seek  behind  the  shutters? 

Mean  your  eyes  should  pierce  through  solid  bricks  ? 

II. 

"What  and  if  he,  frowning,  wake  you,  dreamy 
Lay  on  you  the  blame  that  bricks  —  conceal  ? 

Say  '  At  least  I  saw  who  did  not  see  rne^ 
Docs  see  now,  and  p7'esently  shall  feel  V"*^ 


FEARS  AND  SCRUPLES.  75 


"  Why,  that  makes  your  friend  a  monster ! "  say  you : 
"  Had  his  house  no  window  ?     At  first  nod, 

Would   you   not   have   hailed  him  ? "     Hush,    I   pray 
you  ! 
What  if  this  friend  happen  to  be — God? 


76  NATURAL  MAGIC, 


NATURAL   MAGIC. 


All  I  can  say  is  —  I  saw  it ! 

The  room  was  as  bare  as  your  hand. 

I  locked  in  the  swarth  little  lady,  —  I  swear, 

From  the  head    to    the   foot   of   her  —  well,  quite    as 

bare  ! 
"No    Nautch    shall   cheat   me,"    said   I,    "taking   my 

stand 
At    this    bolt    which    I    draw  !  "     And    this   bolt  — •  I 

withdraw  it, 
And  there  laughs  the  lady,  not  bare,  but  embowered 
With  —  who    knows    what    verdure,    o'erfruited,    o'er- 

flowered  ? 
Impossible  !     Only  —  I  saw  it  1 


NATURAL  MAGIC,  77 


2. 

All  I  can  sing  is  —  I  feel  it ! 

This  life  was  as  blank  as  that  room  ; 

I  let  you  pass  in  here.     Precaution,  indeed? 

Walls,  ceiling  and  floor,  —  not  a  chance  for  a  weed ! 

Wide  opens  the  entrance  :  where's  cold  now,  where's 
gloom  ? 

No  May  to  sow  seed  here,  no  June  to  reveal  it. 

Behold  you  enshrined  in  these  blooms  of  your  bring- 
ing. 

These  fruits  of  your  bearing  —  nay,  birds  of  your 
winging  ! 

A  fairy-tale  !     Only  —  I  feel  it  I 


78  MAGICAL  NATURE, 


MAGICAL  NATURE. 


Flower  —  I  never  fancied,  jewel  —  I  profess  you  ! 
Bright   I    see    and   soft    I    feel  the    outside    of   a 
flower. 
Save   but   glow  inside    and  —  jewel,   I    should   guess 
you, 
Dim   to   sight   and   rough   to   touch :    the   glory  is 
the  dower. 


You,  forsooth,  a  flower?     Nay,  my  love,  a  jewel  — 
Jewel  at  no  mercy  of  a  moment  in  your  prime ! 

Time    may    fray   the    flower-face:    kind   be    time    or 
cruel. 
Jewel,  from  each  facet,  flash  your  laugh  at  time  ! 


BIFURCA  TION,  79 


BIFURCATION. 

We  were  two  lovers  ;   let  .me  lie  by  her, 

My  tomb  beside  her  tomb.     On  hers  inscribe  — 

"  I  loved  him  ;  but  my  reason  bade  prefer 

Duty  to  love,  reject  the  tempter's  bribe 

Of  rose  and  lily  when  each  path  diverged, 

And  either  I  must  pace  to  life's  far  end 

As  love  should  lead  me,  or,  as  duty  urged. 

Plod  the  worn  causeway  arm  in  arm  with  friend. 

So,  truth  turned  falsehood  :    ^  How  I  loathe  a  flower^ 

How  prize  the  pavement  .f  still  caressed  his  ear  — 

The   deafish   friend's  —  through   life's    day,    hour   by 

hour. 
As  he  laughed  (coughing)  ^  Ay^  it  would  appear  T 
But  deep  within  my  heart  of  hearts  there  hid 
Ever  the  confidence,  amends  for  all, 
That  heaven  repairs  what  wrong  earth's  journey  did, 
When  love  from  lifc-lon^  exile  comes  at  call. 


8o  BIFURCATION. 

Duty  and  love,  one  broadway,  were  the  best  — 
Who  doubts  ?     But  one  or  other  was  to  choose. 
I  chose  the  darkhng  half,  and  wait  the  rest 
In  that  new  world  where  light  and  darkness  fuse." 

Inscribe  on  mine  —  "I  loved  her  :    love's  track  lay 
O'er  sand  and  pebble,  as  all  travellers  know. 
Duty  led  through  a  smiling  country,  gay 
With  greensward  where  the  rose  and  lily  blow. 
'  Our  roads  are  diverse :  farewell^  love ! '    said  she  : 
'^Tis  duty  I  abide  by :   homely  sward 
And  not  the  rock-rough  picturesque  for  7ne  I 
Above,  where  both  roads  Join,  I  wait  reward. 
Be  you  as  constant  to  the  path  whereon 
I  leave  you  planted P     But  man  needs  must  move. 
Keep  moving  —  whither,  when  the  star  is  gone 
Whereby  he  steps  secure  nor  strays  from  love  ? 
No  stone  but  I  was  tripped  by,  stumbling-block 
But  brought  me  to  confusion.     Where  I  fell, 
There  I  lay  flat,  if  moss  disguised  the  rock, 
Thence,  if  flint  pierced,  I  rose  and  cried  ^  All's  well! 


BIFUR  CA  TIOiV.  8 1 

Duty  be  mine  to  tread  in  that  high  sphere 
Where  love  from  duty  ne'er  disparts,  I  trust, 
And  two  halves  make  that  zuhole,  whereof —  since  here 
Ojie  must  suffice  a  man  —  why,  this  one  must ! '  " 

Inscribe  each  tomb  thus  :    then,  some  sage  acquaint 
The  simple  —  which  holds  sinner,  which  holds  saint ! 


82  NUMPHOLEPTOS, 


NUMPHOLEPTOS. 

Still  you  stand,  still  you  listen,  still  you  smile ! 
Still  melts  your  moonbeam  through  me,  white  awhile, 
Softening,  sweetening,  till  sweet  and  soft 
Increase  so  round  this  heart  of  mine,  that  oft 
I  coiild  believe  your  moonbeam-smile  has  past 
The  pallid  limit  and,  transformed  at  last. 
Lies,  sunlight  and  salvation  —  warms  the  soul 
It  sweetens,  softens  !     Would  you  pass  that  goal, 
Gain  love's  birth  at  the  limit's  happier  verge. 
And,  where  an  iridescence  lurks,  but  urge 
The  hesitating  pallor  on  to  prime 
Of   dawn  !  —  true  blood-streaked,  sun-warmth,  action- 
time, 
By  heart-pulse  ripened  to  a  ruddy  glow 
Of  gold  above  my  clay  —  I  scarce  should  know 


NUMPHOLEPTOS.  83 

From    gold's    self,    thus    suffused  !       For   gold    means 

love. 
What  means  the  sad  slow  silver  smile  above 
My  clay  but  pity,  pardon?  —  at  the  best, 
But  acquiescence  that  I  take  my  rest, 
Contented  to  be  clay,  while  in  your  heaven 
The  sun  reserves  love  for  the  Spirit- Seven 
Companioning  God's  throne  they  lamp  before, 
—  Leaves  earth  a  mute  waste   only  wandered  o'er 
By  that  pale  soft  sweet  disempassioned  moon 
Which  smiles  me  slow  forgiveness !     Such,  the  boon 
I  beg?     Nay,  dear,  submit  to  this  —  just  this 
Supreme  endeavor !     As  my  lips  now  kiss 
Your  feet,  my  arms  convulse  your  shrouding  robe, 
My  eyes,  acquainted  with  the  dust,  dare  probe 
Your  eyes  above  for  —  what,  if  born,  would  blind 
Mine  with  redundant  bliss,  as  flash  may  find 
The  inert  nerve,  sting  awake  the  palsied  limb, 
Bid  with  life's  ecstasy  sense  overbrim 
And  suck  back  death  in  the  resurging  joy  — 
Love,  the  love  whole  and  sole  without  alloy ! 


84  NUMPHOLEPTOS. 

Vainly!     The  promise  withers!     I  employ 

Lips,  arms,  eyes,   pray    the    prayer    which    finds    the 

word, 
Make  the  appeal  which  must  be  felt,  not  heard, 
And  none  the  more  is  changed  your  calm  regard : 
Rather,  its  sweet  and  soft  grow  harsh  and  hard  — 
Forbearance,  then  repulsion,  then  disdain. 
Avert  the  rest !     I  rise,  see  !  —  make,  again 
Once  more,  the  old  departure  for  some  track 
Untried  yet  through  a  world  which  brings  me  back 
Ever  thus  fruitlessly  to  find  your  feet. 
To  ^iL  your  eyes,  to  pray  the  soft  and  sweet 
Which  smile  there  —  take  from  his  new  pilgrimage 
Your  outcast,  once  your  inmate,  and  assuage 
With  love  —  not  placid  pardon  now  —  his  thirst 
For  a  mere  drop  from  out  the  ocean  erst 
He  drank  at !     Well,  the  quest  shall  be  renewed. 
Fear  nothing !     Though  I  linger,  unimbued 
With  any  drop,  my  lips  thus  close.     I  go ! 
So  did  I  leave  you,  I  have  found  you  so. 
And  doubtlessly,  if  fated  to  return, 


NUMPHOLEPTOS.  85 

So  shall  my  pleading  persevere  and  earn 
Pardon  —  not  love  in  that  same  smile,  I  learn, 
And  lose  the  meaning  of,  to  learn  once  more, 
Vainly  ! 

What  fairy  track  do  I  explore  ? 
What  magic  hall  return  to,  like  the  gem     . 
CentLiply-angled  o'er  a  diadem  ? 

You  dwell  there,  hearted  ;   from  your  midmost  home 
Rays  forth  —  through  that  fantastic  world  I  roam 
Ever  —  from  centre  to  circumference, 
Shaft  upon  colored  shaft :    this  crimsons  thence. 
That  purples  out  its  precinct  through  the  waste. 
Surely  I  had  your  sanction  when  I  faced. 
Fared  forth  upon  that  untried  yellow  ray 
Whence  I  retrack  my  steps  ?     They  end  to-day 
Where  they  began,  before  your  feet,  beneath 
Your  eyes,  your  smile  :    the  blade  is  shut  in  sheath, 
Fire  quenched  in  flint ;    irradiation,  late 
Triumphant  through  the  distance,  finds  its  fate. 
Merged  in  your  blank  pure  soul,  alike  the  source 


86  NUMPIIOLEPTOS. 

And  tomb  of  that  prismatic  glow:    divorce 

Absolute,  all-conclusive  !     Forth  I  fared, 

Treading  the  lambent  llamelet :    little  cared 

If  now  its  flickering  took  the  topaz  tint, 

If  now  my  dull-caked  path  gave  sulphury  hint 

Of  subterranean  rage  —  no  stay  nor  stint 

To  yellow,  since  you  sanctioned  that  I  bathe, 

Burnish  me,  soul  and  body,  swim  and  swathe 

In  yellow  license.     Here  I  reek  suffused 

With  crocus,  saffron,  orange,  as  I  used 

With  scarlet,  purple,  every  dye  o'  the  bow 

Born  cf  the  storm-cloud.     As  before,  you  show 

Scarce  recognition,  no  approval,  some 

Mistrust,  more  wonder  at  a  man  become 

Monstrous  in  garb,  nay  —  flesh  disguised  as  well. 

Through  his  adventure.     Whatsoe'er  befell, 

I  followed,  wheresoe'er  it  wound,  that  vein 

You  authorized  should  leave  your  whiteness,  stain 

Earth's  sombre  stretch  beyond  your  midmost  place 

Of  vantage,  —  trode  that  tinct  whereof  the  trace 

On  garb  and  flesh  repel  you  !     Yes,  I  plead 


NUMPffOLEPTOS.  87 

Your  own  permission  —  your  command,  indeed, 

That  who  would  worthily  retain   the  love 

Must  share  the  knowledge  shrined  those  eyes  above, 

Go  boldly  on  adventure,  break  through  bounds 

O'  the  quintessential  whiteness  that  surrounds 

Your  feet,  obtain  experience  of  each  tinge 

That  bickers  forth  to  broaden  out,  impinge 

Plainer  his  foot  its  pathway  all  distinct 

From  every  other.     Ah,  the  wonder,  linked 

With  fear,  a-s  exploration  manifests 

What  agency  it  was  first  tipped  the  crests 

Of  unnamed  wildflower,  soon  protruding  grew 

Portentous  mid  the  sands,  as  when  his  hue 

Betrays     him     and     the      burrowing     snake     gleams 

through  ; 
Till,  last  .  .  but  why  parade  more  shame  and  pain  ? 
Are  not  the  proofs  upon  me  ?     Here  again 
I  pass  into  your  presence,  I  receive 
Your  smile  of  pity,  pardon,  and  I  leave  .  .  . 
No,  not  this  last  of  times  I  leave  you,  mute, 
Submitted  to  my  penance,  so  my  foot 


88  NUMPHOLEPTOS. 

May  yet  again  adventure,  tread,  from  source 
To  issue,  one  more  ray  of  rays  which  course 
Each  other,  at  your  bidding,  from  the  sphere 
Silver  and  sweet,  their  birthjDlace,  down  that  drear 
Dark  of  the  world,  —  you  promise  shall  return 
Your  pilgrim  jewelled  as  with  drops  o'  the  urn 
The  rainbow  j^aints  from,  and  no  smatch   at  all 
Of  ghastliness  at  edge  of  some  .cloud-pall 
Heaven  cowers  before,  as  earth  awaits  the  fall 
O'    the   bolt    and    flash    of    doom.     Who    trusts    your 

word 
Tries  the  adventure  :    and  returns  —  absurd 
As  frightful  —  in  that  sulphur-steeped  disguise 
Mocking  the  priestly  cloth-of-gold,  sole  prize 
The  arch-heretic  was  wont  to  bear  away 
Until  he  reached  the  burning.     No,  I  say : 
No  fresh  adventure  !     No  more  seeking  love 
At  end  of  toil,  and  finding,  calm  above 
My  passion,  the  old  statuesque  regard, 
The  sad  petrifi^  smile  ! 


NUMPHOLEPTOS.  89 

O  you  —  less  hard 
And  hateful  than  mistaken  and  obtuse 
Unreason  of  a  she-intelligence  ! 
You  very  woman  with  the  pert  pretence 
To  match  the  male  achievement  !     Like  enough ! 
Ay,  you  were  easy  victors,  did  the  rough 
Straightway  efface  itself  to  smooth,  the  gruff 
Grind  down  and  grow  a  whisper,  —  did  man's  truth 
Subdue,  for  sake  of  chivalry  and  ruth, 
Its  rapier-edge  to  suit  the  bulrush-spear 
Womanly  falsehood  fights  with  !     O  that  ear 
All  fact  pricks  rudely,  that  thrice-superfine 
Feminity  of  sense,  with  right  divine 
To  waive  all  process,  take  result  stain-free 
From  out  the  very  muck  wherein  .  .  . 

Ah  me  ! 
The  true  slave's  querulous  outbreak !     All  the  rest 
Be  resignation  !     Forth  at  your  behest 
I  fare.     Who  knows  but  this  —  the  crimson-quest  — 
May  deepen  to  a  sunrise,  not  decay 
To  that  cold  sad  sweet  smile?  —  wliich   I  obtv. 


90  APPEARANCES. 


APPEARANCES. 


And  so  you  found  that  poor  room  dull, 
Dark,  hardly  to  your  taste,  my  dear  ? 

Its  features  seemed  unbeautiful : 

But  this  I  know  —  'twas  there,  not  here, 

You  plighted  troth  to  me,  the  word 

Which  —  ask  that  poor  room  how  it  heard. 

2. 

And  this  rich  room  obtains  your  praise 
Unqualified  —  so  bright,  so  fair. 

So  all  whereat  perfection  stays  ? 

Ay,  but  remember  —  here,  not  there. 

The  other  word  was  spoken  !  —  Ask 

This  rich  room  how  you  dropped  the  mack  ! 


ST,   MARTIN'S  SUMMER,  91 


ST.    MARTIN'S    SUMMER. 


No  protesting,  dearest ! 
Hardly  kisses  even  ! 

Don't  we  both  know  how  it  ends, 
How  the  greenest   leaf   turns  searest, 
Bluest  outbreak  —  blankest  heaven, 
Lovers  —  friends  ? 

2. 

You  would  build  a  mansion, 
I  would  weave  a  bower 
—  Want  the  heart  for  enterprise. 
Walls  admit  of  no  expansion  : 
Trellis-work  may  haply  flower 
Twice  the  size. 


92  ST.   MARTIN'S  SUMMER, 

3- 

What  makes  glad  Life's  Winter  ? 
New  buds,  old  blooms  after. 
Sad  the  sighing  "  How  suspect 
Beams  would  ere  mid- Autumn  splinter, 
Rooftree  scarce  support  a  rafter, 
Walls  lie  wrecked  ?  " 

4. 

You  are  young,  my  princess  ! 
I  am  hardly  older  : 

Yet  —  I  steal  a  glance  behind  I 
Dare  I  tell  you  what  convinces 
Timid  me  that  you,  if  bolder, 
Bold —  are  blind  ? 

5- 
Where  we  plan  our  dwelling 
Glooms  a  graveyard  surely  ! 

Headstone,  footstone  moss  may  drape,  ■ 


ST.   MARTIN'S   SUMMER. 

Name,  date,  violets  hide  from  spelling, — 
But,  though  corpses  rot  obscurely, 
Ghosts  escape. 


93 


Ghosts  !     O  breathing  beauty. 
Give  my  frank  word  pardon  ! 

What  if  I  —  somehow,  somewhere  — 
Pledged  my  soul  to  endless  duty 
Many  a  time  and  oft  ?     Be  hard  on 
Love  —  laid  there  ? 


7- 

Nay,  blame  grief  that's  fickle, 
Time  that  proves  a  traitor. 

Chance,  change,  all  that  purpose  warps,— 
Death  who  spares  to  thrust  the  sickle 

Laid  Love  low,  through  flowers  which  later 
Shroud  the  corpse! 


94 


ST,   MARTIN'S  SUMMER. 

8. 

And  you,  my  winsome  lady, 

Whisper  me  with  like  frankness  ! 
Lies  nodiing  buried  long  ago  ? 
Are  yon — which  shimmer  mid  the  shady 
Where  moss  and  violet  run  to  rankness  ■ 
Tombs  or  no  ? 

9- 

Who  taxes  you  with  murder? 

My  hands  are  clean  —  or  nearly  ! 
Love  being  mortal  needs  must  pass. 
Repentance?     Nothing  were  absurder. 
Enough:   we  felt  Love's  loss  severely; 
Though  now  —  alas  ! 


Love's  corpse  lies  quiet  therefore, 
Only  Love's  ghost  plays  truant, 

And  warns  us  have  in  wholesome  awe 


ST.   MARTIN'S  SUMMER.  95 

Durable  mansionry ;    that's  wherefore 

I  weave  but  trelHs-work,  pursuant  , 

—  Life,  to  law. 


The  solid,  not  the  fragile, 

Tempts  rain  and  hail  and  thunder. 

If  bower  stand  firm  at  Autumn's  close, 
Beyond  my  hope,  —  why,  boughs  were  agile ; 
If  bovver  fall  flat,  we  scarce  need  wonder 
Wreathinoj  —  rose ! 


12. 

So,  truce  to  the  protesting. 
So,  muffled  be  the  kisses  ! 

For,  would  we  but  avow  the  truth, 
Sober  is  genuine  joy.     No  jesting  ! 
Ask  else  Penelope,  Ulysses  — 
Old  in  youth ! 


g6  ST.   MARTIN'S  SUMMER. 

13- 

For  why  should  ghosts  feel  angered  ? 
Let  all  their  interference 

Be  faint  march-music  in  the  air  ! 
"  Up  !  *  Join  the  rear  of  us  the  vanguard  ! 
Up,  lovers,  dead  to  all  appearance, 
Laggard  pair ! " 

14. 

■The  while  you  clasp  me  closer, 
■  The  while  I  press  you  deeper. 

As  safe  we  chuckle,  —  under  breath. 
Yet  all  the  slyer,  the  jocoser,  — 

"  So,  life  can  boast  its  day,  like  leap-year. 
Stolen  from  death  !  " 

IS- 

Ah  me  —  the  sudden  terror  ! 

Hence  quick  —  avaunt,  avoid  me. 

You  cheat,  the  ghostly  flesh-disguised  ! 


ST.    MARTIN'S  SUMMER.  97 

Nay,  all  the  ghosts  in  one  !     Strange  error  ! 

So,  'twas  Death's  self  that  clipped  and  coyed  me ! 
Loved  —  and  lied  ! 


16. 

Ay,  dead  loves  are  the  potent ! 
Like  any  cloud  they  used  you, 

Mere  semblance  you,  but  substance  tbey  1 
Build  we  no  mansion,  weave  we  no  tent ! 
Mere  flesh  —  their  spirit  interfused  you  ! 
Hence,  I  say  ! 

All  theirs,  none  yours  the  glamour !  ^ 

Theirs  each  low  word  that  won  me. 

Soft  look  that  found  me  Love's,  and  left 
What  else  but  you  —  the  tears  and  clamor 
That's  all  your  very  own  !     Undone  me  — 
Ghost-bereft ! 


98  A  FORGIVENESS, 


A   FORGIVENESS. 

I  AM  indeed  the  personage  you  know. 
As  for  my  wife,  —  what  happened  long  ago  — 
You  have  a  right  to  question  me,  as .  I 
Am  bound  to  answer. 

"  Son,  a  fit  reply  ! '' 
The    monk    half     spoke,    half    ground    through    his 

clenched  teeth, 
At  the  confession-grate  I  knelt  beneath. 

Thus  then  all  happened,  Father !     Power  and  place 
I  had  as  still  I  have.     I  ran  life's  race. 
With  the  whole  world  to  see,  as  only  strains 
His  strength  some  athlete  whose  prodigious  gains 
Of  good  appall  him  :  happy  to  excess,  — 
Work  freely  done  should  balance  happiness 


A   FORGIVENESS,  99 

Fully  enjoyed  ;   and,  since  beneath  my  roof 

Housed   she   who    made    home    heaven,    in    heaven's 

behoof 
I  went  forth  every  day,  and  all  day  long 
Worked  for  the  world.    Look,  how  the  laborer's  song 
Cheers    him !     Thus    sang    my   soul,    at   each    sharp 

throe 
Of  laboring  flesh  and  blood  — "  She  loves  me  so ! '' 

One  day,  perhaps  such  song  so  knit  the  nerve 
That  work  grew  play  and  vanished.     "  I  deserve 
Haply  my  heaven  an  hour  before  the  time !  " 
I  laughed,  as  silverly  the  clockhouse-chime 
Surprised  me  passing  through  the  postern-gate 
—  Not  the  main  entry  where  the  menials  wait 
And  wonder  why  the  world's  affairs  allow 
The  master  sudden  leisure.     That  was  how 
I  took  the  private  garden-way  for  once. 

Forth  from  the  alcove,  I  saw  start,  ensconce 
Himself  behind  the  porphyry  vase,  a  man. 


lOO  A   FORGIVENESS. 

My  fancies  in  the  natural  order  ran  : 

"  A  spy,  —  perhaps  a  foe  in  ambuscade,  — 

A  thief,  —  more  like,  a  sweetheart  of  some  maid 

Who  pitched  on  the  alcove  for  tryst  perhaps  " 

"  Stand  there  !  "    I  bid. 

Whereat  my  man  but  wraps 
His  face  the  closelier  with  uplifted  arm 
Whereon  the  cloak  lies,  strikes  in  blind  alarm 
This  and  that  pedestal  as,  —  stretch  and  stoop,  — 
Now  in,  now  out  of  sight,  he  thrids  the  group 
Of  statues,  marble  god  and  goddess  ranged 
Each  side  the  pathway,  till  the  gate's  exchanged 
For  safety :   one  step  thence,  the  street,  you  know  ! 

Thus  far  I  followed  my  gaze.     Then,  slow. 
Near  on  admiringly,  I  breathed  again, 
And — back  to  that  last  fancy  of  the  train  — 
"  A  danger  risked  for  hope  of  just  a  word 
With- — which  of  all  my  nest  may  be  the  bird 
This  poacher  covets  for  her  plumage,  pray? 


y4   FORGIP^E^/i/E'SS.  ibt ' 

Carmen  ?     Juana  ?     Carmen  seems  too  gay 
For  such  adventure,  while  Juana's  grave 
—  Would  scorn  the  folly.     I  applaud  the  knave  ! 
He  had  the  eye,  could  shigle  from  my  brood 
His  proper  fledgling  ! '' 

As  I  turned,  there  stood 
In  face  of   me,  my  wife  stone-still  stone-white. 
Whether  one  bound  had  brought  her,  —  at  first  sight 
Of  what  she  judged  the  encounter,  sure  to  be 
Next  moment,  of  the  venturous  man  and  me,  — 
Brought  her  to  clutch  and  keep  me  from  my  prey  , 
Whether  impelled  because  her  death  no  day 
Could  come  so  absolutely  opportune 
As  now  at  joy's  height,  like  a  year  in  June 
Stayed  at  the  fall  of   its  first  ripened  rose  ; 
Or  whether  hungry  for  my  hate  —  who  knows  ?  — 
Eager  to  end  an  irksome  lie,  and  taste 
Our  tingling  true  relation,  hate  embraced 
By  hate  one  naked  moment :  —  anyhow 
There  stone-still  stone-white  stood  my  wife,  but  now 


I02  ^A   fV'RGIVENESS. 

The  woman  who  made  heaven  within  my  house. 
Ay,  she  who  faced  me  was  my  very  spouse 
As  well  as  love  —  you  are  to  recollect ! 

"  Stay  !  "  she  said.    "Keep  at  least  one  soul  unspecked 

With  crime,  that's  spotless  hitherto  —  your  own  ! 

Kill  me  who  court  the  blessing,  who  alone 

Was,  am  and  shall  be  guilty,  first  to  last ! 

The  man  lay  helpless  in  the  toils  I  cast 

About  him,  helpless  as  the  statue  there 

Against  that  strangling  bell-flower's  bondage  :    tear 

Away  and  tread  to  dust  the  parasite, 

But  do  the  passive  marble  no  despite  ! 

I  love  him  as  I  hate  you.     Kill  me  !     Strike 

At  one  blow  both  infinitudes  alike 

Out  of   existence  —  hate  and  love  !     Whence  love  ? 

That's  safe  inside  my  heart,  nor  will  remove 

For  any  searching  of  your  steel,  I  think. 

Whence  hate  ?     The  secret  lay  on  lip,  at  brink 

Of  speech,  in  one  fierce  tremble  to  escape. 

At  every  form  wherein  your  love  took  shape, 


A   FORGIVENESS.  103 

At  each  new  provocation  of  your  kiss. 
Kill  me !  " 

We  went  in. 

Next  day  after  this, 
I  felt  as  if  the  speech  might  come.     I  spoke  — 
Easily,  after  all. 

"The  lifted  cloak 
Was  screen  sufficient:    I  concern  myself 
Hardly  with  laying  hands  on  who  for  pelf  — 
Whate'er  the  ignoble  kind  —  may  prowl  and  brave 
Cuffing  and  kicking  proper  to  a  knave 
Detected  by  my  household's  vigilance. 
Enough  of  such  !     As  for  my  love-romance  — 
I,  like  our  good  Hidalgo,  rub  my  eyes 
And  wake  and  wonder  how  the  film  could  rise 
Which  changed  for  me  a  barber's  basin  straight 
Into  —  Mambrino's  helm?     I  hesitate 
Nowise  to  say  —  God's  sacramental  cup  ! 


T04  A   FORGIVENESS. 

Why  should  I  blame  the  brass  which,  burnished  up, 

Will  blaze,  to  all  but  me,  as  good  as  gold? 

To  me  —  a  warning  I  was  overbold 

In  judging  metals.     The  Hidalgo  waked 

Only  to  die,  if  I  remember,  —  staked 

His  life  upon  the  basin's  w^orth,  and  lost : 

While  I  confess  torpidity  at  most 

In  here  and  there  a  limb ;   but,  lame  and  halt, 

Still  should  I  work  on,  still  repair  my  fault 

Ere  I  took  rest  in  death,  —  no  fear  at  all  ! 

Now,  work  —  no  word  before  the  curtain  fall !  " 

The  "  curtain  ?  "     That  of  death  on  life,  I  meant : 

My  "  word  "  permissible  in  death's  event. 

Would  be — truth,  soul  to  soul;   for,  otherwise, 

Day  by  day,  three  years  long,  there  had*"  to  rise 

And,  night  by  night,  to  fall  upon  our  stage  — 

Ours,  doomed  to  public  play  by  heritage  — 

Another  curtain,  when  the  world,  perforce 

Our  critical  assembly,  in  due  course 

Came  and  went,  witnessing,  gave  praise  or  blam.e 

To  art-mimetic.     It  had  spoiled  the  game 


A   FORGIVENESS.  1 05 

If,  suffered  to  set  foot  behind  our  scene, 

The  world  had  witnessed  how  stage-king  and  queen, 

Gallant  and  lady,  but  a  minute  since 

Enarming  each  the  other,  would  evince 

No  sign  of  recognition  as  they  took 

His  way  and  her  way  to  whatever  nook 

Waited  them  in  the  darkness  either  side 

Of  that  bright  stage  where  lately  groom  and  bride 

Had  fired  the  audience  to  a  frenzy-fit 

Of  sympathetic  rapture  —  every  whit 

Earned  as  the  curtain  fell  on  her  and  me, 

—  Actors.     Three  whole  years,  nothing  was  to  see 

But  calm  and  concord :    where  a  speech  was  due 

There    came   the    speech ;   when    smiles  were   wanted 

too 
Smiles  were  as  ready.     In  a  place  like  -mine, 
Where  foreign  and  domestic  cares  combine. 
There's  audience  every  day  and  all  day  long ; 
But  finally  the  last  of  the  whole  throng 
Who  linger  lets  one  see  iiis  back.     For  her  — 
Why,  liberty  and  liking  :    I  aver. 


io6  A   FORGIVENESS. 

Liking  and  liberty  !     For  me  —  I  breathed, 
Let  my  face  rest  from  every  wrinkle  wreathed 
Smile  like  about  the  mouth,  unlearned  my  task 
Of  personation  till  next  day  bade  mask, 
And  quietly  betook  me  from  that  world 
To  the  real  world,  not  pageant :   there  unfurled 
In  work,  its  wings,  my  soul,  the  fretted  power. 
Three  years  I  worked,  each  minute  of  each  hour 
Not  claimed  by  acting :-— work  I  may  dispense 
With  talk  about,  since  work  in  evidence, 
Perhaps  in  history ;   who  knows  or  cares  ? 

After  three  years,  this  way,  all  unawares, 

Our  acting  ended.     She  and  I,  at  close 

Of  a  loud  night-feast,  led,  between  two  rows 

Of  bending  male  and  female  loyalty. 

Our  lord  the  king  down  staircase,  while,  held  high 

At  arm's  length  did  the  twisted  tapers'  flare 

Herald  his  passage  from  our  palace  where 

Such  visiting  left  glory  evermore. 

Again  the  ascent  in  public,  till  at  door 


A   FORG/FENESS.  1 07 

As  we  two  stood  by  the  saloon  —  now  blank 
And  disencumbered  of  its  guests  —  there  sank 
A  whisper  in  my  ear,  so  low  and  yet 
So  unmistakable ! 

"  I  half  forget 
The  chamber  you  repair  to,  and  I  want 
Occasion  for  one  short  word  —  if  you  grant 
That  grace— within  a  certain  room  you  called 
Our  '  Study,^  for  you  wrote  there  while  I  scrawled 
Some  paper  full  of  faces  for  my  sport. 
That  room  I  can  remember.     Just  one  short 
Word  with  you  there,  for  the  remembrance^  sake  ! " 

"  Follow  me  thither  !  '*    I  replied. 

We  break 
The  gloom  a  little,  as  with  guiding  lamp 
I  lead  the  way,  leave  warmth  and  cheer,  by  damp 
Blind  disused  serpentining  ways  afar 
From  where  the  habitable  chambers  are,  — 


Io8  A   FORGIVENESS. 

Ascend,  descend  stairs  tunnelled  through  the  stone, — 

Always  in  silence,  ■ —  till  I  reach  the  lone 

Chamber  sepulchred  for  my  very  own 

Out  of  the  palace-quarry.     When  a  boy, 

Here  was  my  fortress,  stronghold  from  annoy, 

Proof-positive  of  ownership  ;    in  youth 

I  garnered  up  my  gleanings  here  —  uncouth 

But  precious  relics  of  vain  hopes,  vain  fears ; 

Finally,  this  became  in  after  years 

My  closet  of  intrenchment  to  withstand 

Invasion  of  the  foe  on  every  hand  — 

The  multifarious  herd  in  bower  and  hall. 

State-room,  —  rooms  whatsoe'er  the  style,  which  call 

On  masters  to  be  mindful  that,  before 

Men,  they  must  look  like  men  and    something  more. 

Here,  —  when  our  lord  the  king's  bestowment  ceased 

To  deck  me  on  the  day  that,  golden-fleeced, 

I  touched  ambition's  height,  —  'twas  here,  released 

From  glory  (always  symbolled  by  a  chain  !) 

No  sooner  was  I  privileged  to  gain 

My  secret  domicile  than  glad   I  flung 


A   FORGIVENESS.  109 

That  last  toy  on  the  table  —  gazed  where  hung 

On  hook  my  father's  gift,  the  arquebuss  — 

And  asked  myself  ''  Shall  I  envisage  thus 

The  new  prize  and  the  old  prize,  when  I  reach 

Another  year's  experience?  —  own  that  each 

Equalled  advantage  —  sportsman's  —  statesman's  tool? 

That  brought  me  down  an  eagle,  this  —  a  fool !  " 

Into  which  room  on  entry,  I  set  down 
The  lamp,  and  turning  saw  whose  rustled  gown 
Had  told  me  my  wife  followed,  pace  for  pace. 
Each  of  us  looked  the  other  in  the  face, 
She  spoke.     "  Since  I  could  die  now  .  .  ." 

(To  explain 
Why  that  first  struck  me,  know  —  not  once  again 
Since  the  adventure  at  the  porphyry's  edge 
Three  years  before,  which  sundered  like  a  wedge 
Her  soul  from  mine,  —  though  daily,  smile  to  smile. 
We  stood  before  the  public,  —  all  the  while 
Not  once  had  I  distinguished,  in  that  face 


no  A   FORGIVENESS, 

I  paid  observance  to,  the  faintest  trace 

Of  feature  more  than  requisite  for  eyes 

To  do  their  duty  by  and  recognize  : 

So  did  I  force  mine  to  obey  my  will 

And  pry  no  further.     There  exists  such  skill,  — 

Those  know  who  need  it.     What  physician  shrinks 

From  needful  contact  with  a  corpse  ?     He  drinks 

No  plague  so  long  as  thirst  for  knowledge,  —  not 

An  idler  impulse,  —  prompts  inquiry.     What, 

And  will  you  disbelieve  in  power  to  bid 

Our  spirit  back  to  bounds,  as  though  we  chid 

A  child  from  scrutiny  that's  just  and  right 

In  manhood?     Sense,  not  soul,  accomplished  sight, 

Reported  daily  she  it  was  —  not  how 

Nor  why  a  change  had  come  to  cheek  and  brow.) 

"  Since  I  could  die  now  of  the  truth  concealed, 
Yet  dare  not,  must  not  die,  —  so  seems  revealed 
The  Virgin's  mind  to  me, — for  death  means  peace, 
Wherein  no  lawful  part  have  I,  whose  lease 
Of  life  and  punishment  the  truth  avowed 


A  FORGIVENESS.  Ill 

May  haply  lengthen,  —  let  me  push  the  shroud 

Away,  that  steals  to  muffle  ere  is  just 

My  penance-fire  in  snow  !     I  dare  —  I  must 

Live,  by  avowal  of  the  truth  —  this  truth  — 

I  loved  you !     Thanks  for  the  fresh  serpent's  tooth 

That,  by  a  prompt  new  pang  more  exquisite 

Than  all  preceding  torture,  proves  me  right ! 

I  loved  you  yet  I  lost  you !     May  I  go 

Burn  to  the  ashes,  now  my  shame  you  know  ? " 

I  think  there  never  was  such  —  how  express  ?  — 

Horror  coquetting  with  voluptuousness. 

As  in  those  arms  of  Eastern  workmanship  — 

Yataghan,  kandjar,  things  that  rend  and  rip. 

Gash  rough,  slash  smooth,  help  hate  so  many  ways, 

Yet  ever  keep  a  beauty  that  betrays 

Love  still  at  work  with  the  artificer 

Throughout  his  quaint  devising.     Why  prefer. 

Except  for  love's  sake,  that  a  blade  should  writhe 

And  bicker  like  a  flame  ?  —  now  play  the  scythe 

As  if  some  broad  neck  tempted,  —  now  contract 


112  A   FORGIVENESS. 

And  needle  off  into  a  fineness  lacked 

For  just  that  puncture  which  the  heart  demands? 

Then,  such  adornment !     Wherefore  need  our  hands 

Enclose  not  ivory  alone,  nor  gold 

Roughened  for  use,  but  jewels  ?     Nay,  behold  ! 

Fancy  my  favorite  —  which  I  seem  to  grasp 

While  I  describe  the  luxury.     No  asp 

Is  diapered  more  delicate  round  throat 

Than  this  below  the  handle  !     These  denote 

—  These  mazy  lines  meandering,  to  end 

Only  in  flesh  they  open  —  what  intend 

They  else  but  water-purlings  —  pale  contrast 

With  the  life-crimson  where  they  blend  at  last  ? 

And  mark  the  handle's  dim  pellucid  green, 

Carved,  the  hard  jadestone,  as  you  pinch  a  bean. 

Into  a  sort  of  parrot-bird  !     He  pecks 

A  grape-bunch  ;   his  two  eyes  are  ruby-specks 

Pure  from  the  mine:    seen  this  way,  —  glassy  blank. 

But  turn  them,  —  lo  the  inmost  fire,  that  shrank 

From  sparkling,  sends  a  red  dart  right  to  aim  ! 

Why  did  I  choose  such  toys  ?     Perhaps  the  game 


A   FORGIVENESS,  II3 

Of  peaceful  men  is  warlike,  just  as  men 
War-wearied  get  amusement  from  that  pen 
And  paper  we  grow  sick  of  —  statesfolk  tired 
Of  merely  (when  such  measures  are  required) 
Dealing  out  doom  to  people  by  three  words, 
A  signature  and  seal :   we  play  with  swords 
Suggestive  of  quick  process.     That  is  how 
I  came  to  like  the  toys  described  you  now, 
Store  of  which  glittered  on  the  walls  and  strewed 
The  table,  even,  while  my  wife  pursued 
Her  purpose  to  its  ending.     "Now  you  know 
This  shame,  my  three  years'  torture,  let  me  go, 
Burn  to  the  very  ashes  !     You  —  I  lost, 
Yet  you  —  I  loved  ! '' 

The  thing  I  pity  most 
In  men  is  —  action  prompted  by  surprise 
Of  anger:   men?   nay,  bulls  —  whose  onset  lies 
At  instance  of  the  firework  and  the  goad  ! 
Once  the  foe  prostrate, — trampling  once  bestowed, — 
Prompt  follows  placability,  regret. 


114  A   FORGIVENESS. 

Atonement.     Trust  me,  blood-warmth  never  yet 

Betokened  strong  will  !     As  no  leap  of  pulse 

Pricked  me,  that  first  time,  so  did  none  convulse 

My  veins  at  this  occasion  for  resolve. 

Had  that  devolved  which  did  not  then  devolve 

Upon  me,  I  had  done  —  what  now  to  do 

Was  quietly  apparent. 

"Tell  me  who 
The  man  was,  crouching  by  the  porphyry  vase ! " 
"  No,  never !     All  was  folly  in  his  case, 
All  guilt  in  mine.     I  tempted,  he  complied." 

"And  yet  you  loved  me?" 

"  Loved  you.     Double-dyed 
In  folly  and  in  guilt,  I  thought  you  gave 
Your  heart  and  soul  away  from  me  to  slave 
At  statecraft.     Since  my  right  in  you  seemed  lost, 
I  stung  myself  to  teach  you,  to  your  cost, 
What  you  rejected  could  be  prized  beyond 


A   FORGIVENESS.  115 

Life,  heaven,  by  the  first  fool  I  threw  a  fond 
Look  on,  a  fatal  word  to." 

"And  you  still 
Love  me  ?     Do  I  conjecture  well  or  ill  ? '' 
"Conjecture  —  well  or  ill!     I  had  three  years 
To  spend  in  learning  you." 

'^We  both  are  peers 
In  knowledge,  therefore :    since  three  years  are  spent 
Ere  thus  much  of   yourself   /  learn  —  who  went 
Back  to  the  house,  that  day,  and  brought  my  mind 
To  bear  upon  your  action,  uncombined 
Motive  from  motive,  till  the  dross,  deprived 
Of   every  purer  particle,  survived 
At  last  in  native  simple  hideousness. 
Utter  contemptibility,  nor  less 
Nor  more.     Contemptibility  —  exempt 
How  could  I,  from  its  proper  due  —  contempt? 
I  have  too  much  despised  you  to  divert 
My  life  from  its  set  course  by  help  or  hurt 


Ii6  A   FORGIVENESS. 

Of  your  all-despicable  life  —  perturb 

The  calm  I  work  in,  by  —  men's  mouth  to  curb, 

Which  at  such  news  were  clamorous  enough  — 

Men's  eyes  to  shut  before  my  broiclered  stuff 

With  the  huge  hole  there,  my  emblazoned  wall 

Blank  where  a  scutcheon  hung,  —  by,  worse  than  all, 

Each  day's  procession,  my  paraded  life 

Robbed  and  impoverished  through  the  wanting  wife 

—  Now  that  my  life  (which  means  —  my  work)  was 

grown 
Riches  indeed !     Once,  just  this  worth  alone 
Seemed  work  to  have,  that  profit  gained  thereby 
Of   good  and  praise  would  —  how  rewardingly  !  — 
Fall  at  your  feet,  —  a  crown  I  hoped  to  cast 
Before  your  love,  my  love  should  crown  at  last. 
No  love  remaining  to  cast  crown  before. 
My  love  stopped  work  now  :    but  contempt  the  more 
Impelled  me  task  as  ever  head  and  hand. 
Because  the  very  fiends  weave  ropes  of  sand 
Rather  than  taste  pure  hell  in  idleness. 
Therefore  I  kept  my  memory  down  by  stress 


A   FORGIVENESS.  117 

Of  daily  work  I  had  no  mind  to  stay 

For  the  world's  wonder  at  the  wife  away. 

Oh,  it  was  easy  all  of  it,  believe. 

For  I  despised  you  !     But  your  words  retrieve 

Importantly  the  past.     No  hate  assumed 

The  mask  of  love  at  any  time  !     There  gloomed 

A  moment  when  love  took  hate's  semblance,  urged 

By  causes  you  declare  ;   but  love's  self  purged 

Away  a  fancied  wrong  I  did  both  loves 

—  Yours  and  my  own  :   by  no  hate's  help,  it  proves, 

Purgation  was  attempted.     Then,  you  rise 

High  by  how  many  a  grade !     I  did  despise  — 

I  do  but  hate  you.     Let  hate's  punishment 

Replace  contempt's  !     First  step  to  which  ascent  — 

Write  down  your  own  words  I  re-utter  you ! 

^  I  loved  my  husband  and  I  hated — who 

He  was,  I  took  tip  as  my  first  chance,  mere 

Mud-ball  to  fling  aitd  inake  love  foul  with  I '     Here 

Lies  paper ! " 

"Would  my  blood  for  ink  suffice!" 


Ii8  A   FORGIVENESS, 

''  It  may :    this  minion  from  a  land  of  spice, 
Silk,  feather  —  every  bird  of   jewelled  breast  — 
This  poniard's  beauty,  ne'er  so  lightly  prest 
Above  your  heart  there  .  ." 

"  Thus  ? " 

"  It  flows,  I  see. 
Dip  there  the  point  and  write  ! " 

"  Dictate  to  me  ! 
Nay,  I  remember." 

And  she  wrote  the  words. 
I  read  them.     Then  — "  Since  love,  in  you,  affords 
License  for  hate,  in  me,  to  quench  (I  say) 
Contempt  —  why,  hate  itself   has  passed  away 
In  vengeance  —  foreign  to  contempt.     Depart 
Peacefully  to  that  death  which  Eastern  art 
Imbued  this  weapon  with,  if   tales  be  true  ! 
Love  will  succeed  to  hate.     I  pardon  you  — 
Dead  in  our  chamber !  " 


A   FORGIVEIVESS.  1 19 

True  as  truth  the  tale. 
She  died  ere  morning ;   then,  I  saw  how  pale 
Her  cheek  was  ere  it  wore  day's  paint-disguise, 
And  what  a  hollow  darkened  'neath  her  eyes, 
Now  that  I  used  my  own.     She  sleeps,  as  erst 
Beloved,  in  this  your  church :    ay,  yours  ! 

Immersed 
In  thought  so  deeply,  Father?     Sad,  perhaps? 
For  whose  sake,  hers  or  mine  or  his  who  wraps 
—  Still  plain  I  seem  to  see !  —  about  his  head 
The  idle  cloak,  —  about  his  heart  (instead 
Of   cuirass)  some  fond  hope  he  may  elude 
My  vengeance  in  the  cloister's  solitude  ? 
Hardly,  I  think !     As  little  helped  his  brow 
The  cloak  then,  Father  —  as  your  grate  helps  now  ! 


120  CENCIAJA. 


CENCIAJA. 

Ogni  cencio  vuol  entrare  in  bucato.  —  Italian  Proverb, 

May  I  print,  Shelley,  how  it  came  to  pass 

That  when  your  Beatrice  seemed  —  by  lapse 

Of   many  a  long  month  since  her  sentence  fell  — 

Assured  of   pardon  for  the  parricide,  — 

By  intercession  of   stanch  friends,  or,  say, 

By  certain  pricks  of   conscience  in  the  Pope 

Conniver  at  Francesco  Cenci's  guilt,  — 

Suddenly  all  things  changed  and  Clement  grew 

"  Stern,"  as  you  state,  "  nor  to  be  moved  nor  bent, 

But  said  these  three  words  coldly  'She  must  die;^ 

Subjoining  '  Pardon  ?     Paolo  Santa  Croce 

Murdered  his  mother  also  yestereve. 

And  he  is  fled :   she  shall  not  flee  at  least  I  ^ 

—  So,  to  the  letter,  sentence  was  fulfilled? 


CENCIAJA.  121 

Shelley,  may  I  condense  verbosity 

That  lies  before  me,  into  some  few  words 

Of  English,  and  illustrate  your  superb 

Achievement  by  a  rescued  anecdote. 

No  great  things,  only  new  and  true  beside? 

As  if  some  mere  familiar  of  a  house 

Should  venture  to  accost  the  group  at  gaze 

Before  its  Titian,  famed  the  wide  world  through, 

And  supplement  such  pictured  masterpiece 

By  whisper  "  Searching  in  the  archives  here, 

I  found  the  reason  of  the  Lady's  fate, 

And  how  by  accident  it  came  to  pass 

She  wears  the  halo  and  displays  the  palm : 

Who,  haply,  else  had  never  suffered  —  no, 

Nor  graced  our  gallery,  by  consequence." 

Who  loved  the  work  would  like  the  little  news 

Who  lauds  your  poem  lends  an  ear  to  me 

Relating  how  the  penalty  was  paid 

By  one  Marchese  dell'  Oriolo,  called 

Onofrio  Santa  Croce  otherwise, 

For  his  complicity  in  matricide 


122  CENCIAJA. 

With  Paolo  his  own  brother,  —  he  whose  crime 
And  flight  induced   "  those  three  words  —  She   must 

die." 
Thus  I  unroll  you  then  the  manuscript. 

"  God's  justice  "  —  (of  the  multiplicity 
Of  such  communications  extant  still, 
Recording,  each,  injustice  done  by  God 
In  person  of  his  Vicar-upon-earth, 
Scarce  one  but  leads  off  to  the  self-same  tune)  — 
"  God's  justice,  tardy  though  it  prove  perchance, 
Rests  never  on  the  track  until  it  reach 
Delinquency.     In  proof  I  cite  the  case 
Of  Paolo  Santa  Croce." 

Many  times 
The  youngster,  —  haying  been  importunate 
That  Marchesine  Costanza,  who  remained 
His  widowed  mother,  should  supplant  the  heir 
Her  elder  son,  and  substitute  himself 
In  sole  possession  of  her  faculty, — 


CENCIAJA,  123 

And  meeting  just  as  often  with  rebuff, — 
Blinded  by  so  exorbitant  a  lust 
Of  gold,  the  youngster  straightway  tasked  his  wits, 
Casting  about  to  kill  the  lady  —  thus. 

He  first,  to  cover  his  iniquity. 
Writes  to  Onofrio  Santa  Croce,  then 
Authoritative  lord,  acquainting  him 
Their  mother  was  contamination — v^^rought 
Like  hell-fire  in  the  beauty  of  their  House 
By  dissoluteness  and  abandonment 
Of  soul  and  body  to  impure  delight. 
Moreover,  since  she  suffered  from  disease. 
Those  symptoms  which  her  death  made  manifest 
Hydroptic,  he  affirmed  were  fruits  of  sin 
About  to  bring  confusion  and  disgrace 
Upon  the  ancient  lineage  and  high  fame 
O'  the  family,  when  published.     Duty  bound. 
He  asked  his  brother  —  what  a  son  should  do  ? 

Which  when  Marchese  dell'  Oriolo  heard 


124  CE  NCI  A  J  A, 

By  letter,  being  absent  at  his  land 

Oriolo,  he  made  answer,  this,  no  more 

"It  must  behoove  a  son,  —  things  haply  so, — 

To  act  as  honor  prompts  a  cavalier 

And  son,  perform  his  duty  to  all  three, 

Mother  and  brothers"  —  here  advice  broke  off. 

By  which  advice  informed  and  fortified 
As  he  professed  himself  —  the  bound  by  birth 
To  hear  God's  voice  in  primogeniture  — 
Paolo,  who  kept  his  mother  company 
In  her  domain  Subiaco,  straightway  dared 
His  whole  enormity  of  enterprise 
And,  falling  on  her,  stabbed  the  lady  dead  ; 
Whose  death  demonstrated  her  innocence, 
And  happened,  —  by  the  way,  —  since  Jesus  Christ 
Died  to  save  man,  just  sixteen  hundred  years. 
Costanza  was  of  aspect  beautiful 
Exceedingly,  and  seemed,  although  in  age 
Sixty  about,  to  far  surpass  her  peers 
The  coetaneous  dames,  in  youth  and  grace. 


CENCIAJA.  125 

*     Done  the  misdeed,  its  author  takes  to  flight, 
Foiling  thereby  the  justice  of  the  world  : 
Not  God's  however,  —  God,  be  sure,  knows  well 
The  way  to  clutch  a  culprit.     Witness  here ! 
The  present  sinner,  when  he  least  expects, 
Snug-cornered  somewhere  i'  the  Basilicate, 
Stumbles  upon  his  death  by  violence. 
A  man  of  blood  assaults  the  man  of  blood 
And  slays  him  somehow.     This  was  afterward  : 
Enough,  he  promptly  met  with  his  deserts, 
And,  ending  thus,  permits  we  end  with  him, 
And  push  forthwith  to  this  important  point  — 
His  matricide  fell  out,  of  all  the  days, 
Precisely  when  the  law-procedure  closed 
Respecting  Count  Francesco  Cenci's  death 
Chargeable  on  his  daughter,  sons  and  wife. 
"  Thus  patricide  was  matched  with  matricide," 
A  poet  not  inelegantly  rhymed  : 
Nay,  fratricide  —  those  Princes  Massimi  !  — 
Which  so  disturbed  the  spirit  of  the  Pope 
That  all  the  likelihood  Rome  entertained 


126  CENCIAJA, 

Of  Beatrice's  pardon  vanished  straight, 
And  she  endured  the  piteous  death. 

Now  see 
The  sequel  —  what  effect  commandment  had 
For  strict  inquiry  into  this  last  case, 
When  Cardinal  Aldobrandini  (great 
His  efficacy  —  nephew  to  the  Pope!) 
Was  bidden  crush  —  ay,  though  his  very  hand 
Got  soil  i'  the  act  —  crime  spawning  everywhere  1 
Because,  when  all  endeavor  had  been  used 
To  catch  the  aforesaid  Paolo,  all  in  vain  — 
"  Make  perquisition "  quoth  our  Eminence, 
"  Throughout  his  now  deserted  domicile  ! 
Ransack  the  palace,  roof  and  floor,  to  find 
If  haply  any  scrap  of  writing,  hid 
In  nook  or  corner,  may  convict — who  knows?  — 
Brother  Onofrio  of  intelligence 
With  brother  Paolo,  as  in  brotherhood 
Is  but  too  likely :    crime  spawns  everywhere  !  " 


CENCIAJA,  127 

And,  every  cranny  searched  accordingly, 
There  comes  to  light  —  O  lynx-eyed  Cardinal!  — 
Onofrio's  unconsidered  writing-sqrap, 
The  letter  in  reply  to  Paolo's  prayer, 
The  word  of  counsel  that — things  proving  so, 
Paolo  should  act  the  proper  knightly  part, 
And  do  as  was  incumbent  on  a  son, 
A  brother  —  and  a  man  of  birth,  be  sure ! 

Whereat  immediately  the  officers 
Proceeded  to  arrest  Onofrio  —  found 
At  foot-ball,  child's  play,  unaware  of  harm. 
Safe  with  his  friends,  the  Orsini,  at  their  seat 
Monte  Giordano  ;   as  he  left  the  house 
He  came  upon  the  v;atch  in  wait  for  him 
Set  by  the  Barigel,  —  was  caught  and  caged. 

News  of  which  capture  being,  that  same  hour, 
Conveyed  to  Rome,  forthwith  our  Eminence 
Commands  Taverna,  Governor  and  Judge, 
To  have  the  process  in  especial  care, 


128  CE  NCI  A  J  A. 

Be,  first  to  last,  not  only  president 

In  person,  but  inquisitor  as  well. 

Nor  trust  ihe  by-work  to  a  substitute: 

Bids  him  not,  squeamish,  keep  the  bench,  but  scrub 

The  floor  of  Justice,  so  to  speak,  —  go  try 

His  best  in  prison  with  the  criminal  ; 

Promising,  as  reward  for  by-work  done 

Fairly  on  all-fours,  that,  success  obtained 

And  crime  avowed,  or  such  connivancy 

With  crime  as  should  procure  a  decent  death  — 

Himself  will  humbly  beg  —  which  means,  procure  — 

The  Hat  and  Purple  from  his  relative 

The  Pope,  and  so  repay  a  diligence 

Which,  meritorious  in  the  Cenci-case, 

Mounts  plainly  here  to  Purple  and  the  Hat ! 

Whereupon  did  my  lord  the  Governor 
So  masterfully  exercise  the  task 
Enjoined  him,  that  he,  day  by  day,  and  week 
By  week,  and  month  by  month,  from  first  to  last 
Deserved  the  prize  :   now,  punctual  at  his  place, 


CENCIAJA.  129 

Played  Judge,  and  now,  assiduous  at  his  post, 
Inquisitor  —  pressed  cushion  and  scoured  plank, 
Early  and  late.     Noon's  fervor  and  night's  chill. 
Nought   moved    whom    morn    would,    purpling,    make 

amends  ! 
So  that  obseorvers  laughed  as,  many  a  day, 
He  left  home,  in  July  when  day  is  flame, 
Posted  to  Tordinona-prison,  plunged 
Into  the  vault  where  daylong  night  is  ice, 
There  passed  his  eight  hours  on  a  stretch,  content, 
Examining  Onofrio  :    all  the  stress 
Of   all  examination  steadily 
Converging  into  one  pin-point,  —  he  pushed 
Tentative  now  of   head  and  now  of  heart. 
As  when  the  nuthatch  taps  and  tries  the  nut 
This  side  and  that  side  till  the  kernel  sound,  — 
So  did  he  press  the  sole  and  single  point 
—  What  was  the  very  meaning  of   the  phrase 
*  Do  what  beseems  an  honored  cavalier  ? ' 

Which  one  persistent  question-torture, — plied 


I30  CENCIAJA, 

Day  by  day,  week  by  week,  and  month  by  month, 
Morn,  noon  and  night, — fatigued  away  a  mind 
Grown  imbecile  by  darkness,  solitude, 
And  one  vivacious  memory  gnawing  there 
As  when  a  corpse  is  coffined  with  a  snake  : 

—  Fatigued  Onofrio  into  what  might  seem 
Admission  that  perchance  his  judgment  groped 
So  bHndly,  feeling  for  an  issue  —  aught 

With  semblance  of   an  issue  from  the  toils 
Cast  of   a  sudden  round  feet  late  so  free, 
He  possibly  might  have  envisaged,  scarce 
Recoiled  from  —  even  were  the  issue  death 

—  Even  her  death  whose  life  was  death  and  worse ! 
Always  provided  that  the  charge  of   crime. 

Each  jot  and  tittle  of   the  charge  were  true. 
In  such  a  sense,  belike,  he  might  advise 
His  brother  to  expurgate  crime  with  .  .  well. 
With  blood,  if  blood  must  follow  on   *  the  course 
Taken  as  might  beseem  a  cavalier.^ 

Whereupon  process  ended,  and  report 


CENCIAJA.  131 

Was  made  without  a  minute  of   delay 
To  Clement  who,  because  of   those  two  crimes 
O'  the  Massimi  and  Cenci  flagrant  late, 
Must  needs  impatiently  desire  result. 

Result  obtained,  he  bade  the  Governor 
Summon  the  Congregation  and  despatch. 
Summons  made,  sentence  passed  accordingly 
—  Death  by  beheading.     When  his  death-decree 
Was  intimated  to  Onofrio,  all 
Man  could  do  —  that  did  he  to  save  himself. 
'Twas  much,  the  having  gained  for  his  defence 
The  Advocate  o'  the  Poor,  with  natural  help 
Of   many  noble  friendly  persons  fain 
To  disengage  a  man  of   family, 
So  young  too,  from  his  grim  entanglement. 
But  Cardinal  Aldobrandini  ruled 
There  must  be  no  diversion  of   the  law. 
Justice  is  justice,  and  the  magistrate 
Bears  not  the  sword  in  vain.     Who  sins  must  die. 


132  CENCIAJA. 

So,  the  Marchese  had  his  head  cut  off 
In  Place  Saint  Angelo  beside  the  Bridge, 
With  Rome  to  see,  a  concourse  infinite  ; 
Where,  demonstrating  magnanimity 
Adequate  to  his  birth  and  breed,  —  poor  boy  !  — 
He  made  the  people  the  accustomed  speech. 
Exhorted  them  to  true  faith,  honest  works, 
And  special  good  behavior  as  regards 
A  parent  of  no  matter  what  the  sex, 
Bidding  each  son  take  warning  from  himself. 
Truly,  it  was  considered  in  the  boy 
Stark  staring  lunacy,  no  less,  to  snap 
So  plain  a  bait,  be  hooked  and  hauled  a-shore 
By  such  an  angler  as  the  Cardinal ! 
Why  make  confession  of  his  privity 
To  Paolo's  enterprise  ?     Mere  sealing  lips  — 
Or,  better,  saying  "When  I  counselled  him 
*'  To  do  as  might  beseem  a  cavalier,^ 
What  could  I  mean  but  '  Hide  our  parenfs  shame 
As  Christian  ought,  by  aid  of  Holy  Church  I 
Bury  it  in  a  convent  —  ay,  beneath 


CENCIAJA.  133 

Enough  dotation  to  prevent  its  ghost 

From   troubling  earth  P  ^^      Mere    saying    thus,  —  'tis 

plain, 
Not  only  were  his  life  the  recompense, 
But  he  had  manifestly  proved  himself 
True  Christian,  and  in  lieu  of  punishment 
Been  praised  of  all  men  !  —  So  the  populace. 

Anyhow,  when  the  Pope  made  promise  good 
(That  of  Aldobrandini,  near  and  dear) 
And  gave  Taverna,  who  had  toiled  so  much, 
A  Cardinal's  equipment,  some  such  word 
As  this  from  mouth  to  ear  went  saucily : 
"  Taverna's  cap  is  dyed  in  what  he  drew 
From  Santa  Croce's  veins ! "     So  joked  the  world. 

I  add  :    Onofrio  left  one  child  behind, 
A  daughter  named  Valeria,  dowered  with  grace 
Abundantly  of  soul  and  body,  doomed 
To  life  the  shorter  for  her  father's  fate. 
By  death  of  her,  the  Marquisate  returned 


134  CENCIAJA, 

To  that  Orsini  House  from  whence  it  came : 
Oriolo  having  passed  as  donative 
To  Santa  Croce  from  their  ancestors. 

And  no  word  more  ?     By  all  means  !     Would  you 
know 
The  authoritative  answer,  when  folks  urged 
"  What  made  Aldobrandini,  hound-like  stanch, 
Hunt  out  of  life  a  harmless  simpleton  ? " 
The  answer  was  —  "  Hatred  implacable, 
By  reason  they  were  rivals  in  their  love/' 
The  CardinaFs  desire  was  to  a  dame 
Whose  favor  was  Onofrio's.     Pricked  with  pride, 
The  simpleton  must  ostentatiously 
Display  a  ring,  the  Cardinal's  love-gift, 
Given  to  Onofrio  as  the  lady's  gage  ; 
Which  ring  on  finger,  as  he  put  forth  hand 
To  draw  a  tapestry,  the  Cardinal 
Saw  and  knew,  gift  and  owner,  old  and  young; 
Whereon  a  fury  entered  him  —  the  fire 
He   quenched   with   wliat   could   quench    fire   only  — 
blood. 


CENCIAJA,  135 

Nay,  more :    "  there  want  not  who  affirm  to  boot, 

The  unwise  boy,  a  certain  festal  eve, 

Feigned  ignorance  of  who  the  wight  might  be 

That  pressed  too  closely  on  him  with  a  crowd, 

And  struck  the  Cardinal  a  blow  :    and  then. 

To  put  a  face  upon  the  incident, 

Dared  next  day,  smug  as  ever,  go  pay  court 

I'  the  Cardinal's  antechamber.     Mark  and  mend, 

Ye  youth,  by  this  example  how  may  greed 

Vainglorious  operate  in  worldly  souls  !  " 

So  ends  the  chronicler,  beginning  with 
"  God's  justice,  tardy  though  it  prove  perchance, 
Rests  never  till  it  reach  delinquency." 
Ay,  or  how  otherwise  had  come  to  pass 
That  Victor  rules  this  present  year,  in  Rome  ? 


136  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 


FILIPPO    BALDINUCCI    ON    THE    PRIVI- 
LEGE   OF    BURIAL. 

A  Reminiscence  of  a.t>,  1676. 
I. 
"  No,  boy,  we  must  not "  —  so  began 

My  Uncle  (he's  with  God  long  since) 
A-petting  me,  the  good  old  man  ! 

"  We  must  not  "  —  and  he  seemed  to  wince. 
And  lost  that  laugh  whereto  had  grown 

His  chuckle  at  my  piece  of  news, 
How  cleverly  I  aimed  my  stone  — 

"  I  fear  we  must  not  pelt  the  Jews  ! 

2. 
"  When  I  was  young  indeed,  —  ah,  faith 

Was  young  and  strong  in  Florence  too  ! 
We  Christians  never  dreamed  of  scathe 

Because  we  cursed  or  kicked  the  crew. 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL.  137 

But  now  —  well,  well  !     The  olive-crops 
Weighed  double  then,  and  Arno's  pranks 

Would  always  spare   religious  shops 
Whenever  he  o'erflowed  his  banks  ! 


3. 

"  I'll  tell  you  "  —  and  his  eye  regained 

Its  twinkle  —  "  tell  you  something  choice  ! 
Something  may  help  you  keep  unstained 

Your  honest  zeal  to  stop  the  voice 
Of  unbelief  with  stone-throw  —  spite 

Of  laws,  which  modern  fools  enact, 
That  we  must  suffer  Jews  in  sight 

Go  wholly  unmolested  !     Fact ! 

4. 

"  There  was,  then,  in  my  youth,  and  yet 

Is,  by  San  Frediano,  just 
Below  the  Blessed  Olivet, 

A  wayside  ground  wherein  they  thrust 


138  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Their  dead,  —  these  Jews,  —  the  more  our  shame 

Except  that,  so  they  will  but  die, 
We  may  perchance  incur  no  blame 

In  giving  hogs  a  hoist  to  sty. 

5- 
"  There,  anyhow,  Jews  stow  away 

Their  dead  ;    and,  —  such  their  insolence,  — 
Slink  at  odd  times  to  sing  and  pray 

As  Christians  do  —  all  make-pretence  !  — 
Which  wickedness  they  perpetrate 

Because  they  think  no  Christians  see. 
They  reckoned  here,  at  any  rate, 

Without  their  host :   ha,  ha,  he,  he  ! 


"  For,  what  should  join  their  plot  of  ground 
But  a  good  Farmer's  Christian  field  ? 

The  Jews  had  hedged  their  corner  round 
With  bramble-bush  to  keep  concealed 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BUR/AL.  139 

Their  doings  :  for  the  public  road 

Ran  betwixt  this  their  ground  and  that 

The  Farmer's,  where  he  ploughed  and  sowed, 
Grew  corn  for  barn  and  grapes  for  vat. 


7. 

"  So,  properly  to  guard  his  store 

And  gall  the  unbelievers  too, 
.He  builds  a  shrine  and,  what  is  more, 

Procures  a  painter  whom  I  knew, 
One  Buti  (he's  with  God)  to  paint 

A  holy  picture  there  —  no  less 
Than  Virgin  Mary  free  from  taint 

Borne  to  the  sky  by  angels  :   yes  ! 

8. 

"Which  shrine  he  fixed,  —  who  says  him  nay?- 

A-facing  with  its  picture-side 
Not,  as  you'd  think,  the  public  way. 

But  just  where  sought  these  hounds  to  hide 


I40  '      FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Their  carrion  from  that  very  truth 
Of  Mary's  triumph :    not  a  hound 

Could  act  his  mummeries  uncouth 

But  Mary  shamed  the  pack  all  round  ! 

9- 

"  Now,  if  it  was  amusing,  judge  ! 

—  To  see  the  company  arrive, 
Each  Jew  intent  to  end  his  trudge 

And  take  his  pleasure  (though  alive) 
With  all  his  Jewish  kith  and  kin 

Below  ground,  have  his  venom  out, 
Sharpen  his  wits  for  next  day's  sin, 

Curse  Christians,  and  so  home,  no  doubt ! 


"Whereas,  each  phiz  upturned  beholds 
Mary,  I  warrant,  soaring  brave  ! 

And  in  a  trice,  beneath  the  folds 

Of  filthy  garb  which  gowns  each  knave, 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL,  141 

Down  drops  it  —  there  to  hide  grimace, 
Contortion  of  the  mouth  and  nose 

At  finding  Mary  in  the  place 

They'd  keep  for  Pilate,  I  suppose  ! 


"At  last,  they  will  not  brook  —  not  they!- 

Longer  such  outrage  on  their  tribe  : 
So,  in  some  hole  and  corner,  lay 

Their  heads  together  —  how  to  bribe 
The  meritorious  Farmer's  self 

To  straight  undo  his  work,  restore 
Their  chance  to  meet,  and  muse  on  pelf  — 

Pretending  sorrow,  as  before  ! 

12. 

"  Forthwith,  a  posse,  if  you  please, 
Of  Rabbi  This  and  Rabbi  That 

Almost  go  down  upon  their  knees 
To  get  him  lay  the  picture  flat. 


142  FILIPPO  DALDINUCCI 

The  spokesman,  eighty  years  of  age, 
Gray  as  a  badger,  with  a  goat's 

—  Not  only  beard  but  bleat,  'gins  wage 
War  with  our  Mary.     Thus  he  dotes  :  • 


^3- 

^^  ^ Friends,  grant  a  grace!    How  Hebrews  toil 

Through  life  in  Florence  —  why  relate 
To  those  who  lay  the  burden,  spoil 

Our  paths  of  peace  1      We  bear  our  fate. 
But  when  with  life  the  long  toil  ends, 

Why  must  you  —  the  expression  craves 
Pardon,  but  truth  compels  me,  frie?ids  I  — 

Why  must  you  plague  us  in  our  graves  ? 

14. 

"  *  Thoughtlessly  plague,  I  would  believe  / 
For  how  can  you  —  the  lords  of  ease 

By  nurture,  birthright  —  e'en  conceive 
Our  luxury  to  Us  with  trees 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL,  143 

And  turf,  —  the  cricket  and  the  bird 

Left  for  our  last  compa?ilonshlp  : 
No  harsh  deed,  no  unkindly  word, 

No  frowning  brow  nor  scornful  lip ! 

15- 

"  '  Death^s  luxury,  we  now  rehearse 

While,  living,  through  your  streets  we  fare 
And  take  your  hatred :   nothing  worse 

Have  we,  once  dead  a?td  safe,  to  bear  ! 
So  we  refresh  our  souls,  fulfil 

Our  works,  our  dally  tasks ;  and  thus 
Gather  you  grain  —  earth's  harvest — still 

The  wheat  for  you,  the  straw  for  us, 

16. 

"  *  What  flouting  in  a  face,  what,  harm, 

In  just  a  lady  borne  aloft 
By  boys^  heads,  wings  for  leg  and  arm  ?  ^ 

You  question.     Friends,  the  harm  Is  here  — 


144  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

That  just  when  our  last  sigh  is  heaved, 
And  we  would  fain  thank  God  and  you 

For  labor  do?ie  and  peace  achieved, 
Back  comes  the  Past  in  full  review  / 

"*^/  sight  of  Just  that  simple  fag, 

Starts  the  foefeeling  serpe?tt-like 
From  slumber.     Leave  it  lulled,  nor  drag  — 

Though  fanglcss  — forth,  what  needs  must  strike 
Whe?t  stricken  sore^  though  stroke  be  vain 

Against  the  mailed  oppressor  I     Give 
Flay  to  our  fancy  that  we  gain 

Life's  rights  when  once  we  cease  to  live! 

i8. 

"  *  Thus  much  to  courtesy,  to  kind, 
To  conscience  I    Now  to  Florence  folk! 
There's  core  beneath  tJiis  applc-rind. 
Beneath  this  w/iite-ofegg  there's  yolk! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL,  145 

Beneath  this  prayer  to  courtesy^ 

Kind,  conscience — there's  a  siun  to  pouch  ! 
How  many  ducats  down  will  buy 

Our  shame^s  removal,  sirs  ?     Avouch  I 


19- 

"  *  Removal,  not  destruction,  sirs  / 

yust  turn  your  picture  I    Let  it  front 
The  public  path  I     Or  memory  errs. 

Or  that  same  public  path  is  wont 
To  witness  many  a  chance  befall 

Of  lust,  theft,  bloodshed  —  sins  enough, 
Wherein  our  Hebrew  part  is  small. 

Convert  yourselves  / '  —  he   cut  up  rough. 


20. 

"Look  you,  how  soon  a  service  paid 
Religion  yields  the  servant  fruit  ! 

A  prompt  reply  our  Farmer  made 

So  following  :    ^  Sirs,  to  grant  your  suit 


146  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Involves  much  danger !    Howl     Transpose 
Our  Lady  ?     Stop  the  chastisement^ 

All  for  your  good,  herself  bestows  ? 
What  wonder  if  I  grudge  consent  ? 


"  '  —  Yet  grant  it :  since,  what  cash  I  take 

Is  so  much  saved  from  wicked  use. 
We  know  you  I    And,  for  Marfs  sake, 

A  hundred  ducats  shall  induce 
Concession  to  your  prayer.     One  day 

Suffices  :   Master  Buti^s  brush 
Turns  Mary  round  the  other  way, 

And  deluges  your  side  with  slush. 


^^  ^  Down  with  the  ducats  therefore  T     Dump, 
Dump,  dump  it  falls,  each  counted  piece, 

Hard  gold.     Then  out  of  door  they  stump, 
These  dogs,  each  brisk  as  with  new  lease 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL,  147 

Of  life,  I  warrant, — glad  he'll  die 
Henceforward  just  as  he  may  choose, 

Be  buried  and  in  clover  lie  ! 

Well  said  Esaias  —  *  stiff-necked  jfews  !  ' 

23. 

"Off  posts  without  a  minute's  loss 

Our  Farmer,  once  the  cash  in  poke, 
And  summons  Buti  —  ere  its  gloss 

Have  time  to  fade  from  off  the  joke  — 
To  chop  and  change  his  w^ork,  undo 

The  done  side,  make  the  side,  now  blank. 
Recipient  of  our  Lady  —  who, 

Displaced  thus,  had  these  dogs  to  thank  ! 

24. 

"Now,  boy,  you're  hardly  to  instruct 

In  technicalities  of  Art ! 
My  nephew's  childhood  sure  has  sucked 

Along  with  mother's-milk  some  part 


148  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Of  painter's-practice  —  learned,  at  least, 

How  expeditiously  is  plied 
A  work  in  fresco  —  never  ceased 

When  once  begun  —  a  day,  each  side 

25- 
"So,  Buti — (he's  with  God)  —  begins: 

First  covers  up  the  shrine  all  round 
With  hoarding;   then,  as  like  as  twins, 

Paints,  t'other  side  the  burial-ground, 
New  Mary,  every  point  the  same ; 

Next,  sluices  over,  as  agreed. 
The  old;   and  last  —  but,  spoil  the  game 

By  telling  you  ?     Not  I,  indeed  ! 

26. 

"Well,  ere  the  week  was  half   at  end, 
Out  came  the  object  of   this  zeal, 

This  fine  alacrity  to  spend 

Hard  money  for  mere  dead  men's  weal! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL,  149 

How  think  you  ?     That  old  spokesman  Jew 
Was  High  Priest,  and  he  had  a  wife 

As  old,  and  she  was  dying  too, 

And  wished  to  end  in  peace  her  life ! 


27. 

"  And  he  must  humor  dying  whims, 

And  soothe  her  with  the  idle  hope 
They'd  say  their  prayers  and  sing  their  hymns 

As  if   her  husband  were  the  Pope ! 
And  she  did  die — believing  just 

This  privilege  was  purchased  !     Dead 
In  comfort  through  her  foolish  trust! 

*  Stiff-necked  ones^  well  Esaias  said  ! 


"  So,  Sabbath  morning,  out  of  gate 
And  on  to  way,  what  sees  our  arch 

Good  Farmer?     Why,  they  hoist  their  freight  — 
The  corpse  —  on  shoulder,  and  so,  march  ! 


150  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

^  Now  for  if,  Buti!^     In  the  nick 
Of   time  'tis  pully-hauly,  hence 

With  hoarding !     O'er  the  wayside  quick 
There's  Mary  plain  in  evidence  ! 


29. 

"  And  here's  the  convoy  halting  :   right ! 

O  they  are  bent  on  howling  psalms 
And  growling  prayers,  when  opposite  1 

And  yet  they  glance,  for  all  their  qualms, 
Approve  that  promptitude  of  his. 

The  Farmer's  —  duly  at  his  post 
To  take  due  thanks  from  every  phiz, 

Sour  smirk  —  nay,  surly  smile  almost! 

30- 
"  Then  earthward  drops  each  brow  again  ; 

The  solemn  task's  resumed  ;   they  reach 
Their  holy  field  —  the  unholy  train  : 

Enter  its  precinct,  all  and  each. 


ON   THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL,  151 

Wrapt  somehow  in  their  godless  rites  ; 

Till,  rites  at  end,  up-waking,  lo 
They  lift  their  faces  !     What  delights 

The  mourners  as  they  turn  to  go  ? 


31- 

"  Ha,  ha,  he,  he !     On  just  the  side 

They  drew. their  purse-strings  to  make  quit 
Of   Mary,  —  Christ  the  Crucified 

Fronted  them  now  —  these  biters  bit ! 
Never  was  such  a  hiss  and  snort. 

Such  screwing  nose  and  shooting  lip ! 
Their  purchase  —  honey  in  report  — 

Proved  gall  and  verjuice  at  first  sip  ! 

32. 

"  Out  they  break,  on  they  bustle,  where, 

A-top  of  wall,  the  Farmer  waits 
With  Buti :    never  fun  so  rare  1 

The  Farmer  has  the  best :   he  rates 


152 


FILIPPO  BALDINUCCT 

The  rascal,  as  the  old  High  Priest 

Takes  on  himself  to  sermonize  — 
Nay,  sneer,  '  We  Jews  supposed^  at  leasts 

Theft  was  a  crime  in  Christian  eyes  ! ' 

"  *  Theft  ?  '  cries  the  Farmer,  *  Eat  your  words  ! 

Show  me  what  constitutes  a  breach 
Of  faith  in  aught  was  said  or  heard ! 

I  promised  you  in  plainest  speech 
Td  take  the  thing  you  count  disgrace 

And  put  it  here  —  and  here  Uis  put  I 
Did  you  suppose  I^d  leave  the  place 

Blank  therefore^  just  your  rage  to  glut  ? 

34. 
"  '  /  guess  you  dared  not  stipulate 

For  such  a  damned  impertinence  I 
So  J   quick^  my  -  gray  beard,  out  of  gate 

And  in  at  Ghetto  I    Haste  you  hence  I 


ON   THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL.  153 

As  lo7ig  as  I  have  house  and  land^ 

To  spite  you  irreligious  chaps 
Here  shall  the  Crucifixion  sta7id  — 

Unless  you  down  with  cash,  perhaps  I ' 

35- 
"  So  snickered  he  and  Buti  both. 

The  Jews  said  nothing,  interchanged 
A  glance  or  two,  renewed  their  oath 

To  keep  ears  stopped  and  hearts  estranged 
From  grace,  for  all  our  Church  can  do  ; 

Then  off  they  scuttle :    sullen  jog 
Homewards,  against  our  Church  to  brew 

Fresh  mischief  in  their  synagogue. 

"  But  next  day  —  see  what  happened,  boy  ! 

See  why  I  bid  you  have  a  care 
How  you  pelt  Jews  !     The  knaves  employ 

Such  methods  of  revenge,  forbear 


154  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

No  outrage  on  our  -faith,  when  free 

To  wreak  their  malice  !     Here  they  took 

So  base  a  method  —  plague  o'  me 
If  I  record  it  in  my  Book  ! 


37- 

*'  For,  next  day,  while  the  Farmer  sat 

Laughing,  with  Buti  in  his  shop. 
At  their  successful  joke,  —  rat-tat,  — 

Door  opens,  and  they're  like  to  drop 
Down  to  the  floor  as  in  there  stalks 

A  six-feet-high  herculean-built 
Young  he-Jew  with  a  beard  that  balks 

Description.     '  Help  ere  blood  be  spilt ! ' 

38. 
—  "  Screamed  Buti :   for  he  recognized 

Whom  but  the  son,  no  less  no  more, 
Of  that  High  Priest  his  work  surprised 

So  pleasantly  the  day  before  ! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL,  155 

Son  of  the  mother,  then,  whereof 

The  bier  he  lent  a  shoulder  to. 
And  made  the  moans  about,  dared  scoff 

At  sober  Christian  grief  —  the  Jew! 

39- 

"  *  Sirs^  I  salute  you  I    Never  rise  I 

No  apprehension  ! '     (Buti,  white 
And  trembling  like  a  tub  of  size, 

Had  tried  to  smuggle  out  of  sight 
The  picture's  self  —  the  thing  in  oils, 

You  know,  from  which  a  fresco's  dashed 
Which  courage  speeds  while  caution  spoils) 

*  Stay  and  be  praised,  sir,  unabashed  I 

40. 

"  *  Praised,  —  ay,  and  paid  too :  for  I  come 

To  buy  that  very  work  of  yours. 
My  poor  abode,  which  boasts  —  well,  some 

Few  spcci7nens  of  Art,  secures 


156  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Haply^  a  masterpiece  iiideed 

If  I  should  find  my  humble  mea^is 

Suffice  the  outlay.     So,  proceed  I 
Propose — ere  prudence  intervenes  /* 

41. 

"  On  Buti,  cowering  like  a  child, 

These  words  descended  from   aloft, 
In  tones  so  ominously  mild, 

With  smile  terrifically  soft 
To  that  degree  —  could  Buti  dare 

(Poor  fellow)  use  his  brains,  think  twice? 
He  asked,  thus  taken  unaware, 

No  more  than  just  the  proper  price ! 

42. 

"  *  Done  ! '  cries  the  monster.     '  /  disburse 
Forthwith  your  moderate  demand. 

Count  071  my  custom  —  if  no  worse 
Your  future  work  be,  understand, 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL.  157 

Than  this  I  carry  off!    No  aid  I 
My  arm,  sir,  lacks  nor  bone  nor  thews : 

The  burden's  easy,  and  we're  made, 
Easy  or  hard,  to  bear  —  we  yews  I  * 

43- 

"Crossing  himself  at  such  escape, 

Buti  by  turns  the  money  eyes 
And,  timidly,  the  stalwart  shape 

Now  moving  doorwards  ;   but,  more  wise, 
The  Farmer,  —  who,  though  dumb,  this  while 

Had  watched  advantage,  —  straight  conceived 
A  reason  for  that  tone  and  smile 

So  mild  and  soft !     The  Jew  —  believed  ! 

44. 

"  Mary  in  triumph  borne  to  deck 

A  Hebrew  household !     Pictured  where 

No  one  was  used  to  bend  the  neck 
In  praise  or  bow  the  knee  in  prayer ! 


158  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCr 

Borne  to  that  domicile  by  whom  ? 

The  son  of  the  High  Priest !     Through  what  ? 
An  insult  done  his  mother's  tomb  ! 

Saul  changed  to  Paul  —  the  case  came  pat ! 

45- 
"  ^Stay^  dog- yew  .  .  gentle  sir,  that  is  / 

Resolve  me  I     Can  it  be,  she  crowns,  — 
Mary,  by  miracle,  —  Oh  bliss  I  — 

My  present  to  your  burial-grou7id  ? 
Certain,  a  ray  of  light  has  burst 

Your  veil  of  darkness  I    Had  you  else. 
Only  for  Marfs  sake,  disbursed 

So  much  hard  money '^     Tell — oh,  telPs  !^ 

46. 

"  Round  —  like  a  serpent  that  we  took 
For  worm  and  trod  on  —  turns  his  bulk 

About  the  Jew.     First  dreadful  look 
Sends  Buti  in  a  trice  to  skulk 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  BURIAL,  159 

Out  of  sight  somewhere,  save  —  alack  ! 

But  our  good  Farmer  faith  made  bold  : 
And  firm  (with  Florence  at  his  back) 

He  stood,  while  gruff  the  gutturals  rolled  — 

47- 
"  *  Ay^  sir^  a  miracle  was  worked 

By  quite  another  power ^  I  trow^ 
Than  ever  yet  in  canvas  lurked^ 

Or  you  would  scarcely  face  me  now  I 
A  certain  impulse  did  suggest 

A  certain  grasp  with  this  right-hand, 
Which  probably  had  put  to  rest 

Our  quarrel,  —  thus  your  throat  o?ice  spanned  I 
* 

48. 

"  *  But  I  remembered  me,  subdued 

That  impulse,  and  you  face  me  still! 

And  soon  a  philosophic  mood 

Succeeding  (hear  it,  if  you  will!) 


l6o  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

Has  altogether  changed  my  views 

Concerning  Art.     Blind  prejudice! 
Well  may  you  Christians  tax  us  Jews 
With  scrupulosity  too  nice ! 

49- 
"  *  For^  don^t  I  see,  —  lefs  issue  join  I — 

Whenever  Fm  allowed  pollute 
(I —  and  my  little  hag  of  coin) 

Some  Christian  palace  of  repute,  — 
Don^t  I  see  stuck  up  everywhere 

Abundant  proof  that  cultured  taste 
Has  Beauty  for  its  only  care, 

A?id  upon  Truth  no  thought  to  waste  ? 

50- 
" '  "  Jew,  since  it  must  be,  take  in  pledge 

Of  payment  "  —  so  a  Cardinal 
Has  sighed  to  me  as  if  a  wedge 

Entered  his  heart  "  this  best  of  all 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL,  i6i 

My  treasures  ! "   Leda,  Ganymede 

Or  Antiope : .  swan,  eagle,  ape, 
{Or  whafs  the  beast  of  whafs  the  breed) 

And  jfupiter  in  every  shape  I 

51- 

"  *  Whereat  if  I  presume  to  ask, 

"But,  Eminence,  though  Titian's  whisk 
Of  brush  have  well  performed  its  task, 

How  comes  it  these  false  godships  frisk 
In  presence  of — what  yonder  frame 

Pretends  to  image  ?     Surely,  odd 
It  seems,  you  let  confront  The  Name 

Each  beast  the  heathen  called  his  god  I " 

52. 
"  '  Benignant  smiles  me  pity  straight 

The  Cardinal.     " 'Tis  Truth,  we  prize! 
Art's  the  sole  question  in  debate  1 
These  subjects  are  so  many  lies. 


l62  FILIPFO  BALDINUCCI 

We  treat  them  with  a  proper  scorn 

When  we  turn  lies  —  called  gods  forsooth  ■ 

To  lies'  fit  use,  now  Christ  is  born. 
Drawing  and  coloring  are  Truth. 

53- 
"^ "Think  you  I  honor  lies  so  much 

As  scruple  to  parade  the  charms 
Of   Leda  —  Titian,  every  touch  — 

Because  the  thing  within  her  arms 
Means  Jupiter  who  had  the  praise 

And  prayer  of   a  benighted  world  ? 
He  would  have  mine  too,  if,  in  days 

Of  light,  I  kept  the  canvas  furled ! " 

54. 
"  *  So  ending^  with  some  easy  gibe. 

What  power  has  logic!    /,  at  once, 
Acknowledged  error  in  our  tribe 

So  squeamish  that,  when  friends  ensconce 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL,  163 

A  pretty  picture  in  its  niche 

To  do  us  honor,  deck  our  graves, 
We  fret  and  fume  and  have  an  itch 

To  strangle  folk  —  ungrateful  knaves  I 

55- 
"  *  No,  sir  I    Be  sure  that  —  whafs  its  style, 

Your  picture  ?  —  shall  possess  ungrudged 
A  place  amoftg  my  rank  and  file     ' 

Of  Ledas  and  what  not  —  be  judged 
jfust  as  a  picture !  and  {because 

I  fear  me  much  I  scarce  have  bought 
A  Titian)  Master  Buti's  flaws 

Found  there,  will  have  the  laugh  flaws  ought  T 

56. 

"  So,  with  a  scowl,  it  darkens  door  — 
This  bulk  —  no  longer!     Buti  makes 

Prompt  glad  re-entry  ;  there's  a  score 
Of   oaths,  as  the  good  Farmer  wakes 


164  FILIPPO  BALDINUCCI 

From  what  must  needs  have  been  a  trance, 
Or  he  had  struck  (he  swears)  to  ground 

The  bold  bad  mouth  that  dared  advance 
Such  doctrine  the  reverse  of  sound  ! 

57. 

"  Was  magic  here  ?     Most  like  !     For,  since^ 

Somehow  our  city's  faith  grows  still 
More  and  more  lukewarm,  and  our  Prince 

Or  loses  heart  or  wants  the  will 
To  check  increase  of  cold.     'Tis  ^  Live 

And  let  live  I    Languidly  repress 
The  Dissident !    Ln  short  —  contrive 

Christians  must  bear  with  Jews :  no  less  P 

S8. 

"  The  end  seems,  any  Israelite 

Wants  any  picture,  —  pishes,  poohs, 

Purchases,  hangs  it  full  in  sight 
In  any  chamber  he  may  choose  ! 


ON  THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  BURIAL.  165 

In  Christ^s  crown,  one  more  thorn  we  rue  ! 

In  Mary's  bosom,  one  more  sword  ! 
No,  boy,  you  must  not  pelt  a  Jew  ! 

O  Lord,  how  long  ?     How  long,  O  Lord  ? " 


t66  EPILOGUE. 


EPILOGUE. 

(learol  .  .  . 
ol  6*  afi(f>op7^g  olvov  fieXavog  avdoGfiiov, 


"  The  poets  pour  us  wine  —  " 

Said  the  dearest  poet  I  ever  knew, 
Dearest  and  greatest  and  best  to  me. 
You  clamor  athirst  for  poetry  — 
We  pour.     "  But  when  shall  a  vintage  be  ''  — 

You    cry  — "  strong    grape,     squeezed    gold    from 
screw. 
Yet  sweet  juice,  flavored  flowery-fine  ? 

That  were  indeed  the  wine!" 

2. 

One  pours  your  cup  —  stark  strength. 

Meat  for  a  man ;   and  you  eye  the  pulp 
Strained,  turbid  still,  from  the  viscous  blood 
Of  the  snaky  bough :   and  you  grumble  "  Good  ! 


EPILOGUE.  167 

For  it  swells  resolve,  breeds  hardihood ; 

Despatch  it,  then,  in  a  single  gulp  ! " 
So,  down,  with  a  wry  face,  goes  at  length 

The  liquor :   stuff  for  strength. 

3- 

One  pours  your  cup  —  sheer  sweet, 

The  fragrant  fumes  of  a  year  condensed: 

Suspicion  of  all  that's  ripe  or  rathe, 

From  the  bud  on  branch  to  the  grass  in  swathe. 

"We  suck  mere  milk  of  the  seasons,"  saith 
A  curl  of  each  nostril  —  "dew,  dispensed 

Nowise  for  ner\dng  man  to  feat: 
Boys  sip  such  honeyed  sweet ! " 

4. 

And  thus  who  wants  wine  strong, 

Waves  each  sweet  smell  of  the  year  away; 
Who  likes  to  swoon  as  the  sweets  suffuse 
*    His  brain  with  a  mixture  of  beams  and  dews 


i68  EPILOGUE, 

Turned  sirupy  drink  —  rough  strength  eschews : 
"  What  though  in  our  veins  your  wine-stock  stay  ? 

The  lack  of  the  bloom  does  our  palate  wrong. 
Give  us  wine  sweet,  not  strong !  " 


5- 

Yet  wine  is  —  some  affirm  — 

Prime  wine  there  is  in  the  world  somewhere, 
Of  portable  strength  with  sweet  to  match. 
You  double  your  heart  its  dose,  yet  catch  — 
As  the  draught  descends  —  a  violet-smatch. 
Through  drops  expressed  by  the  fire  and  worm ; 

Strong  sweet  wine  —  some  affirm. 


Body  and  bouquet  both? 

'Tis  easy  to  ticket  a  bottle  so  ; 
But  what  was  the  case  in  the  cask,  my  friends  ? 
Cask  ?     Nay,  the  vat  —  where  the  maker  mends 


EPILOGUE,  169 

His  strong  with  his  sweet  (you  suppose)  and  blends 
His  rough  with  his  smooth,  till  none  can  know 

How  it  comes  you  may  tipple,  nothing  loath, 
Body  and  bouquet  both. 

7- 

"You"  being  just  —  the  world. 

No  poets  —  who  turn,  themselves,  the  winch 
Of  the  press  ;   no  critics  —  I'll  even  say, 
(I  am  flustered  and  easy  of  faith,  to-day) 
Who  for  love  of  the  work  have  learned  the  way 

Till  themselves  produce  home-made,  at  a  pinch : 
No !     You  are  the  world,  and  wine  ne'er  purled 

Except  to  please  the  world  ! 

8. 

"  For,  oh  the  common  heart ! 

And,  ah  the  irremissible  sin 
Of  poets  who  please  themselves,  not  us  ! 
Strong  wine  yet  sweet  wine  pouring  thus, 


170  .  EPILOGUE, 

How  please  still  —  Pindar  and  ^schylus  !  — 
Drink  —  dipt  into  by  the  bearded  chin 

Alike  and  the  bloomy  lip  —  no  part 
Denied  the  common  heart ! 


9- 

"And  might  we  get  such  grace, 

And  did  you  moderns  but  stock  our  vault 
With  the  true  half-brandy  half-attar-gul, 
How  would  seniors  indulge  at  a  hearty  pull 
While  juniors  tossed  off  their  thimbleful ! 

Our  Shakespeare  and  Milton  escaped  your  fault, 
So,  they  reign  supreme  o'er  the  weaker  race 
That  want  the  ancient  grace ! " 

lO. 

If  I  paid  myself  with  words 

(As  the  French  say  well)  I  were  dupe  indeed ! 
I  were  found  in  belief  that  you  quaffed  and  bowsed 
At  your  Shakespeare  the  whole  day  long,  caroused 


EPILOGUE,  171 

In  your  Milton  pottle-deep  nor  drowsed 
A  moment  of  night  —  toped  on,  took  heed 

Of  nothing  like  modern  cream-and-curds  1 
Pay  me  with  deeds,  not  words  ! 


For  —  see  your  cellarage! 

There  are  forty  barrels  with  Shakespeare's  brand. 
Some  five  or  six  are  abroach :   the  rest 
Stand  spigoted,  fauceted.     Try  and  test 
What  yourselves  call  best  of  the  very  best! 

Why  is  it  that  still  untouched  they  stand  ? 
Why  don't  you  try  tap,  advance  a  stage 

With  the  rest  in  cellarage  ? 

12. 

For  —  see  your  cellarage  ! 

There  are  four  big  butts  of  Milton's  brew. 
How  comes  it  you  make  old  drips  and  drops 
Do  duty,  and  there  devotion  stops? 


172  EPILOGUE, 

Leave  such  an  abyss  of   malt  and  hops 
Embellied  in  butts  which  bungs  still  glue  ? 

You  hate  your  bard !     A  fig  for  your  rage  ! 
Free  him  from  cellarage  ! 

13. 
'Tis  said  I  brew  stiff   drink, 

But  the  deuce  a  flavor  of  grape  is  there. 
Hardly  a  May-go-down,  'tis  just 
A  sort  of   a  gruff  Go-down-it-must  — 
No  Merry-go-down,  no  gracious  gust 

Commingles  the  racy  with  May,  the  rare ! 
"What  wonder,"  say  you  "we  cough,  and  blink 

October's  heady  drink?" 

14. 

Is  it  a  fancy,  friepds? 

Mighty  and  mellow  are  never  mixed. 
Though  mighty  and  mellow  be  born  at  once. 
Sweet  for  the  future,  —  strong  for  the  nonce  I 


EPILOGUE.  173 

Stuff  you  should  stow  away,  ensconce 

In  the  deep  and  dark,  to  be  found  fast-fixed 

At  the  century's  close :   such  time  strength  spends 
A-sweetening  for  my  friends  ! 

IS- 

And  then  —  why,  what  you  quaff 

With  a  smack  of  lip  and  a  cluck  of  tongue, 
Is  leakage  and  leavings  —  just  what  haps 
From  the  tun  some  learned  taster  taps 
With  a  promise  "  Prepare  your  watery  chaps ! 

Here's  properest  wine  for  old  and  young ! 
Dispute  its  perfection  —  you  make  us  laugh  ! 

Have  faith,  give  thanks,  but  —  quaff !  " 

16. 

Leakage,  I  say,  or  worse. 

Leavings  suffice  pot-valiant  souls. 
Somebody,  brimful,  long  ago, 
Frothed  flagon  he  drained  to  the  dregs  ;   and  lo, 


174  EPILOGUE. 

Down  whisker  and  beard  what  an  overflow  ! 

Lick  spilth  that  has  trickled  from  classic  jowls. 
Sup  the  single  scene,  sip  the  only  verse  — 

Old  wine,  not  new  and  worse  ! 

17- 

I  grant  you :   worse  by  much ! 

Renounce  that  new  where  you  never  gained 
One  glow  at  heart,  one  gleam  at  head, 
And  stick  to  the  warrant  of   age  instead ! 
No  dwarfs-lap  !     Fatten,  by  giants  fed  ! 

You  fatten,  with  oceans  of   drink  undrained? 
You  feed  —  who  would  choke  did  a  cobweb  smutch 

The  Age  you  love  so  much  ? 

i8. 

A  mine's  beneath  a  moor: 

Acres  of  moor  roof  fathoms  of  mine 
Which  diamonds  dot  where  you  please  to  dig  : 
Yet  who  plies  spade  for  the  bright  and  big  ? 


EPILOGUE,  175 

Your  product  is  —  truffles,  you  hunt  with  a  pig ! 

Since  bright-and-big,  when  a  man  would  dine, 
Suite  badly:   and  therefore  the  Koh-i-noor 

May  sleep  in  mine  'neath  moor! 

19. 

Wine,  pulse  in  might  from  me ! 

It  may  never  emerge  in  must  from  vat, 
Never  fill  cask  nor  furnish  can, 
Never  end  sweet,  which  strong  began  — 
God's  gift  to  gladden  the  heart  of  man  j 

But  spirit's  at  proof,  I  promise  that ! 
No  sparing  of  juice  spoils  what  should  be 

Fit  brewage  —  mine  for  me. 

20. 

Man's  thoughts  and  loves  and  hates ! 

Earth  is  my  vineyard,  these  grew  there : 
From  grape  of  the  ground,  I  made  or  marred 
My  vintage  ;   easy  the  task  or  hard, 


176  EPILOGUE. 

Who  set  it  —  his  praise  be  my  reward  ! 

Earth's  yield !     Who  yearn  for  the  Dark  Blue  Sea's 
Let  them  "lay,  pray,  bray"  —  the  addle-pates. 

Mine  be  Man's  thoughts,  loves,  hates  ! 

21. 

But  some  one  says  "  Good  Sir  !  " 

('Tis  a  worthy  versed  in  what  concerns 
The  making  such  labor  turn  out  well) 
"You  don't  suppose  that  the  nosegay-smell 
Needs  always  come  from  the  grape  ?     Each  bell 

At  your  foot,  each  bud  that  your  Honor  spurns, 
The  very  cowslip  would  act  like  myrrh 
On  the  stiffest  brew  —  good  Sir  ! 

22. 

"  Cowslips,  abundant  birth 

O'er  meadow  and  hillside,  vineyard  too, 
—  Like  a  schoolboy's  scrawlings  in  and  out 
Distasteful  lesson-book  —  all  about 


EPILOGUE,  177 

Greece  and  Rome,  victory  and  rout  — 
Love-verses  instead  of  such  vain  ado  I 

So,  fancies  frolic  it  o'er  the  earth 
Where  thoughts  have  rightlier  birth. 


23. 

"  Nay,  thoughtlings  they  themselves : 

Loves,  hates  —  in    little  and  less  and  least! 
Thoughts?     *  What  is  a  man  beside  a  mount  I  ^ 
Loves  ?     *  Absent  — poor  lovers  the  minutes  count  /  * 
Hates?     ^Fie  —  Pope's  letters  to  Martha  Blount T 

These  furnish  a  wine  for  a  children's-feast : 
Insipid  to  man,  they  suit  the  elves 
Like  thoughts,  loves,  hates  themselves." 

24. 
And,  friends,  beyond  dispute 

I  too  have  the  cowslips  dewy  and  dear. 
Punctual  as  Springtide  forth  peep  they : 
I  leave  them  to  make  my  meadow  gay. 


178  EPILOGUE, 

But  I  ought  to  pluck  and  impound  them,  eh  ? 

Not  let  them  alone,  but  deftly  shear 
And  shred  and  reduce  to  —  what  may  suit 

Children,  beyond  dispute? 

25 

And,  here's  May-month,  all  bloom, 

All  bounty  :   what  if  I  sacrifice  ? 
If  I  out  with  shears  and  shear,  nor  stop 
Shearing  till  prostrate,  lo,  the  crop  ? 
And  will  you  prefer  it  to  ginger-pop 

When  I Ve  made  you  wine  of  the  memories 
Which  leave  as  bare  as  a  churchyard  tomb 

My  meadow,  late  all  bloom  ? 

26. 

Nay,  what  ingratitude 

Should  I  hesitate  to  amuse  the  wits 
That  have  pulled  so  long  at  my  flask,  nor  grudged 
The  headache  that  paid  their  pains,  nor  budged 


EPILOGUE, 


179 


From  bunghole  before  they  sighed  and  judged 
"  Too  rough  for  our  taste,  to-day,  befits 

The  racy  and  right  when  the  years  conclude ! " 
Out  on  ingratitude  ! 

27. 

Grateful  or  ingrate  —  none, 

No  cowslip  of  all  my  fairy  crew 
Shall  help  to  concoct  what  makes  you  wink, 
And  goes  to  your  head  till  you  think  you  think 
I  like  them  alive  :   the  printer's  ink 

Would  sensibly  tell  on  the  perfume  too. 
I  may  use  up  my  nettles,  ere  IVe  done ; 

But  of  cowslips  —  friends  get  none! 

28. 

Don't  nettles  make  a  broth 

Wholesome  for  blood  grown  lazy  and  thick  ? 
Maws  out  of  sorts  make  mouths  out  of  taste. 
My  Thirty-four  Port  —  no  need  to  waste 


i8o  EPILOGUE. 

On  a  tongue  that's  fur  and  a  palate  —  paste  ! 

A  magnum  for  friends  who  are  sound  !  the  sick- 
I'U  posset  and  cosset  them,  nothing  loath, 

Henceforward  with  nettle-broth! 


396725 


H'/^.hi..     tiUC 


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